


Talismans

by the_lavish_loser



Series: Grab Your Talismans Where You Can [1]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Aberforth's granddaughter, Alice was the godmother, Ariana Dumbledore - Freeform, Female Harry Potter, Good Albus Dumbledore, Harry Potter Abandoned by Dursleys, Indian Harry Potter, Indian James Potter, Let Ron learn how to feel 2k19, OC, but not like cheesy, homeless, its gonna be classy, redemption dumbledore, regretful albus dumbledore, sassy potter, shes gonna be gay later
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-06-13
Updated: 2020-04-14
Packaged: 2020-05-02 13:29:44
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 8
Words: 26,116
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19199809
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/the_lavish_loser/pseuds/the_lavish_loser
Summary: Dhatura Lily Potter had the worst luck, ever. Abandoned by the Dursleys, and living on the streets of London, she refused to become bitter.Karma owed her quite a bit, so when a quite literally MAGICAL surprise hit, she felt nothing but awe.





	1. Having A Staring Contest with an Owl With Too Much Personality

Chapter 1

 

Dhatura Lily Potter supposed she should have seen all of this coming. She  _ seemed _ to have the worst luck in the world, and the weirdest things just _ seemed _ to happen to her, all on their own.

 

It wasn’t her fault, at least she believed so. She never asked for any of this to happen, she couldn’t control any of it. She knew she was just a little girl, and it all just plain sucked.

 

Her life, as long as she could remember, had been utter shite. As if her parents being dead, and living with the most awful family in England wasn’t enough, now she was left behind and homeless on the bloody streets of London. 

 

She knew she was odd, but no one deserved this. These  _ things _ … they just  _ happened _ and it wasn’t like she could control it. This time, it had cost her food and a home to live in, not that the Dursley’s was any sort of home for her.

 

See, when Dhatura’s parents had died, she had been left upon the doorstep of her aunt and uncle, Petunia and Vernon. Aunt Petunia had been her mother’s sister, and so responsibility had been handed to them. In kind, they reluctantly took her in, which was evident in how they treated her, and especially when Uncle Vernon was incensed enough to hurt her, which wasn’t exactly rare. 

 

To them, she was a burden risen up from the highest evils of hell and she was handled as such. Despite having several other spare rooms in their spacious suburban paradise, she was shoved to the cupboard underneath the stairs, to live with the spiders and dust. She was hardly ever given much, so the only things that had resided in her box was her mandatory school uniform, dyed grey hand-me-downs from her cousin, books given to her by sympathetic teachers and a worn blanket and pillow. 

 

As a young child, she’d had no idea this was abnormal, until she truly thought about the differences between her and the precious Dudley Dursley, and why they so despised the girl’s very presence.

 

Well, for one, she wasn’t white. Her father, as much as she could figure, was of Indian descent , considering her Aunt Petunia, who never spoke a word about her parents, was as pale as the moon above, she guessed her father was of Indian heritage or something close to that. 

 

It also had to do with all of the weird things that had happened to her throughout her short lifetime. For example, when she was left at their doorstep, she also came with a scar on her forehead, in the shape of a lightning bolt and unnaturally green eyes. Dhatura thought it was rather cool looking, but the Dursley’s believed it was grossly abnormal for a little girl to have a scar, and it was therefore labeled “ugly” and her aunt forced her to hide it behind unruly black bangs. 

 

Then one time, Dudley, her cousin, had stuck gum into her hair, to which Petunia then cut her hair into a horrid bowl cut that refused to stay flat. As much as Dudley had laughed and she had cried that night, it had miraculously grown back overnight after having an amazing dream about a flying motorbike and a giant friendly black dog. Dhatura had thanked whatever god or goddess that had answered her prayer. Then again, she had also gotten locked in her cupboard for a week without food privileges. 

 

This time, however, her weirdness had come with truly dire consequences. 

 

She had been exiting her school building for the day in mid-September, after having talked with the school librarian about the Nancy Drew books that she so loved, when Dudley and his stupid gang of bullies, of which he was the leader, had begun to chase her around the school. She dove behind the trash bins just next to the kitchen door, but found herself on the roof of the school, just above the kitchens, witnessed by many of the residents in the neighborhood.

 

That’s when the Dursley’s and their ‘bizarrely delinquent niece’ had been quite literally the talk of the town. This gossip enraged them and she was pushed violently into the wall the moment she got home, and dragged by her hair into the cupboard again, listening to the harsh whispers that came from the living room for days upon days. The next few days she was lucky if Uncle Vernon would throw her a bloody apple, if anything at all. 

 

Then, there had been all of the rukus outside of her cupboard for several days in a row, thumping down the stairs multiple times a day, until everything was silent. Every once in a while, Dhatura could hear Vernon muttering “freak” or “... tried to stomp it out…”

 

Then there was nothing except the fading sound of a car engine.

 

For days, no words were heard, nor the telly going off, absolutely nothing. Not even an inkling of Vernon getting too drunk and smashing glasses, or Dudley throwing a fit for more food. 

 

Panic seized her. 

 

She was trapped in a small box, and presumably left behind, at the age of 8. 

 

Instinct grabbed her. She rattled at the locked door, as tears poured down like lava released from her eyes. 

 

She thrashed wildly, like a caged animal abused for far too long. Minutes felt like years, trapped in a hell that she did not deserve.

 

After banging one last time, the door’s lock cracked as it unlocked and it flew open, hitting the wall with a loud bang and caused Dhatura to jump back and flinch.

 

A few moments later when the coast seemed to be clear, Dhatura slivered her eyes open just a bit. The door had opened… but no one was there to open it from the outside… 

 

Of course, the young girl had simply chalked it up to the weird things she couldn’t control and climbed out of the cupboard. She had no reason to believe it was anything otherwise.

 

The house was… empty. Not a soul or even object remained. 

 

She didn’t know what to do. On one hand, the Dursleys were horrid, and she felt herself slump a little in relief. Of course, her life would look up a little bit since those vile people were gone, but she was left with so many questions. What was going to happen to the house? What did they think was going to happen to her after they left her there to die? What was she going to do? 

 

She felt confused. She supposed she had to come up with a plan.

 

All this, and she was only bloody 8 years old.

 

***

She didn’t have many choices, so she went with the most sensible of them.

 

Dhatura cleaned out her school bag, which held her work and a few books to read. She kept the books, but left everything else laid out on the table of the kitchen. 

 

Then, she took all of her belongings, considering she had next to nothing anyway, and stuffed them in, jamming her ratty blanket and pillow deep next to her ugly oversized clothes from her ugly oversized cousin. 

 

What was to come next had been banking on what little luck she’d had and every bit of building karma she was owed from such a damning universe to treat her so cruelly. 

 

In the dead of night, as not to get caught by any peeping neighbor, Dhatura snuck off to Surrey Station. She knew it was useless being ‘homeless’ in the middle of a suburb, because most people only cared about their garden and whatever have you. 

 

She snuck around the crowded train station, stealing some crisps and a bottle of water out of a sleeping woman’s purse while she slept soundly on the bench.

 

With no money, Dhatura snuck past ticket agents, and hid in the bathroom on the emptiest car, saying she was motion sick, until she ran off the train as soon as it stopped. She felt residual guilt, at the mixture of taking up the bathroom and not paying for the ticket, but she simply had no other choice.

 

She ripped out of the bathroom like a bat outta hell. Shouldering her bag, she darted straight into the dangers of London. 

 

***

 

Being homeless… was hard, but that was quite expected. 

 

Dhatura would never admit this, but as much as she hated the Dursleys, she missed being able to eat a good, solid meal, at least every once in a while, and having a roof over her head.

 

She also missed showering. That was nice while it lasted. 

 

It was a few months away from being 3 years she became homeless, abandoned and a runaway all at once. It was the beginning of June, and in a bit less than two months, Dhatura would be 11. 

 

It had been three years of survival, and she continued to count her blessings as they came, as she refused to become as bitter as Petunia had been. Wandering the streets all those years ago, she continued her brief luck streak from right off the train, and didn’t die. In fact, in those months to come, she had found a small niche with a group of other homeless people, including Agnes and her 2-year old Heather, Mitchell the ex-accountant, Robert, or Raz, a kid kicked out of his house for being gay, and Akemi, an elderly Japanese woman. 

 

She took their advice and slept under a bridge underneath a motorway, keeping her mostly dry at the very least, but she was always chased away when trying to make permanent camp in warehouses. It was hardly easy. She often starved, and honestly, she was just barely surviving day to day.

 

Winters had obviously been the worst. Dhatura felt she now had a permanent chill to her bones, despite staying in the youth shelters as much as she could. 

 

But her minimal luck had yet to run out, so she was grateful for that at the very least.

 

Three years later, and not much had changed. Her little camp saw several freezing winters, but Dhatura kept in mind that she hadn’t died yet and that was enough for her. And while, as wasn’t quite permanently bitter, she held some resentment towards the Dursley’s.

 

She slept in threadbare sleeping bags, but she had found a tiny mattress a year ago and it served as an extra cushion. 

 

Dhatura would never call it home. It helped her to survive, and kept her mostly safe, but it was hellish and dirty. She longed for a nice meal in a nice house. 

 

That day had started just like any other. The sun rose early on a summer day, and wildlife around her began stirring. Dhatura refused to move today, content to dream about a better life than she was leading today. A life with loving parents, a warm home filled with laughter, and food made with the intent to keep her safe and content. 

 

She was about to drift off to sleep again when she heard the nearby flapping of wings and a short hoot, alerting her that some bird was close. She peeked a sleepy eye open to see an open right in front of her face.

 

Spooked, she jumped and slipped out of her sleeping bag cautiously. The owl blinked up at the tiny girl innocently, and seemed to be gripping onto a piece of paper. 

 

She took a step forward.

 

The owl took a step forward. 

 

She took another step.

 

The owl took another.

 

They stared at each other down, until Dhatura slowly crouched to pick up the letter, unwilling to get any closer to this truly strange bird that acted almost human.

 

Snatching quickly, she backed away, but the owl remained blinking up at her. Fancy her, having a staring contest with an owl with too much personality.

 

Shaking her head, she looked at the letter. 

 

It read:

 

_ To: Miss D. Potter _

_ The Bridge Under The Motorway _

_ London _

 

“I really don’t know what this is about but it’s creeping me out,” she informed the owl in a frank tone, which irritatingly continued to blink up at her. 

 

Hesitantly, Dhatura broke the seal and opened the letter. What found was even more crazy:

 

_ HOGWARTS SCHOOL of WITCHCRAFT and WIZARDRY _

_ Headmaster: ALBUS DUMBLEDORE _

_ (Order of Merlin, First Class, Grand Sorc., Chf. Warlock, Supreme Mugwump, International Confed. of Wizards) _

_ Dear Miss Potter, _

_ We are pleased to inform you that you have been accepted at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. Please find enclosed a list of all necessary books and equipment. Term begins 1 September. We await your owl by no later than 31 July. _

_ Yours sincerely, _

_ Minerva McGonagall _

_ Deputy Headmistress _

__

_ HOGWARTS SCHOOL of WITCHCRAFT and WIZARDRY _

 

Dhatura truly did not know what to make of this. Was this a prank from Raz? Or from some stupid group of teenagers that thought it was bloody hilarious to make fun of homeless people?

 

She didn’t bother to look at the book list, as she didn’t feel like dealing with that mind blowing experience. 

 

She was stunned into silence.

 

She stared at the awaiting owl and remembered that the letter had said it expected some sort of reply… She truly didn’t know what to say.

 

This had to be fake… Witches and wizards? 

 

She supposed she had to answer or else the owl would probably peck her eyes out. 

 

She stepped over to her old schoolbag, and pulled out a pen she had found last week on the street outside of a fancy bank, and on the bottom corner of the first page of the letter she penned out a note.

 

_ Hello, is this a prank? I’m very confused.- Dhatura Lily Potter _

 

She stalked back over to the owl and handed the letter off.

 

“Er- take this I s’pose?” And the bird nabbed the letter back. Dhatura merely hoped it got back to whoever it was supposed to. 

 

***

Several months later, and it was July 31st, Dhatura’s 11th birthday. She still hadn’t heard from the crazy wizard school. She simply believed at this point that it was just some prank.

 

On this bright summer morning, Dhatura once again snuggled deeper into her makeshift bed and let herself have a lie-in as a small birthday present to herself. It was pretty much all she could afford anyway.

 

She felt the sun hit her from beneath her spot under the bridge and gave herself a small grin, just celebrating the fact that she was alive. She wasn’t going to let this get her. She had been through worse with the Dursley’s all those years ago.

 

A small but loud pop hit her ears. Opening her eyes, she found the strangest dressed woman she had ever seen, which was hard to believe, seeing as she had been living in pits of London. She felt vague deja vu and remembered this exact scenario happening the last time she had a lie in, with that bloody owl. 

 

Dhatura sat up warily and grabbed the small pocket knife for protection, upset at the disturbance of her sleep. She gazed at the woman who was stunned at the site before her. The woman was tall, emphasized by her strict posture, with greying hair pulled but into a tight bun, adorming what looked like a long dress and robe and lastly, a witch’s hat straight out of the Wizard of Oz movie from decades ago. (She was homeless, not culturally unaware.)

 

“Miss… Miss Potter is that _ you _ ?” The woman held a Scottish cant.

 

“I suppose yes. Who wants to know?” Dhatura was suspicious. How could a woman simply  _ appear?  _

 

The woman was still taken aback, which seemed abnormal on her. “I-I’m sorry, are you sure? Miss Potter was meant to have been living with-”

 

“The Dursleys? It didn’t work out.”

 

There was a pause, whilst the woman blinked her widening eyes in pure shock.

 

All the woman said was, “I suppose we are in for a long talk then…” 

 

***

 

“I assume I should start with the most pressing matter outside of this situation. I am Professor Minerva McGonagall of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. You, Miss Dhatura Lily Potter, are a witch.”

 

_ What an elegant way to begin this conversation,  _ Dhatura thought to herself.

 

“Well that’s an arsehole move, lady.” The disbelieving look on the woman’s face was quite amusing, but the young girl believed that it was tit for tat, as she just called her a witch.

 

“Miss Potter!” This professor had come in her, insulted her, then scolded her for her language? Lame. “No, I meant as in, witches and wizards, and magic. You were born in a magical world, quite literally. In fact, did the Dursleys never inform you?”

 

Dhatura snorted with cynicism, but finally released the grip on her hidden knife. “‘Inform me?’ They certainly didn’t ‘inform me’ of anything, including when they abandoned me and moved out of their house, leaving me locked in the closet.”

 

If possible, the woman’s eyes widened further, whilst her eyebrows grew steadily. “I cannot believe it,” she murmured, rage injecting into every syllable. 

 

The girl kept on. “So no, I don’t believe anyone told me of any magic.” 

 

The mysterious professor shook off her emotions, promising herself to deal with this part later. She gazed at the small girl, who was still stiffly leaning in her little cot as if to guard herself. Dhatira’s dark hair was ratty and greasy, but Minerva could see evidence of her father’s wild, untameable hair. Her skin, dry and scratched from the elements was naturally bronzed, also taken from her father. The child’s eyes, though, were just as brilliant as her mother’s, an awe inspiring emerald, yet filled with distrust for the world.

 

The girl, so young, should have been care-free, happy and innocent, but her she was, distrustful, small, and so _ skinny _ . 

 

“Well, I suppose I have some convincing to do,” Minerva stated, and gripped her wand.

 

Waving the stick, she conjured up new clothes for the girl, and offered them, almost like an olive branch. “We have many things to discuss further, and we will, but first we must take a small trip, so you might as well clean up a bit.”

 

Glaring up questioningly, Dhatura relaxed a bit as the woman turned away for privacy. 

 

As she finished pulling the plain clothes on, including a pair of blue jeans, plain black sneakers, and a black shirt, she stuffed her pocket knife in the front pocket of the new jeans and McGonagall twirled back around.

 

“Where are we going anyway?”

 

“We are going to Diagon Alley. First and foremost, we will stop by the bank, then we shall get you some food, as you are horribly in need of a good meal, and discuss these such things further.” The professor had a stern aura around her, but seemed quite kind as she gazed down at the short girl.

 

“That sounds alright… But, miss, I don’t have any money.” Dhatura was confused, she was quite obviously homeless, sleeping under a bridge. “Obviously if I had enough money to go to school, afford meals, and all this, I wouldn’t be living under a bridge like a troll.”

 

A hint of a smile winked quickly in and out of existence on McGonagall’s lips. “Yes, well, when your parents died, they left you money. I have the key with me, as Professor Dumbledore, the Headmaster, was keeping hold of it to keep it out of the Dursleys grasp.”

 

“Alright then…” Dhatura had no idea what to say anymore. All this was happening so fast. 

 

“Give me your hand Miss Potter. We will Apparating to Diagon Alley. This will feel very odd, like being squeezed through a hole but it goes quick.” Dhatura nodded; she could handle anything.

 

Holding onto the professor’s arm like instructed, Dhatura braced herself, felt the unbearable squeezing sensation, like if she was an icing bag being compressed out onto a cake. A lovely thought for a very not-lovely feeling.

 

Not even a blink later, the feeling left, and Dhatura slivered an eye open to look out at the new world around her. She had expected some magical locations, or some unicorns, anything like that, but instead they stood in front of a dank pub called ‘The Leaky Cauldron.’ She had passed by it a few times, but never thought much of it, as looked just like any other pub in the great city of London.

 

“No time to dawdle, let us eat and then move onto the bank. Breakfast shall be on me,” the unbending professor proclaimed before stalking upright into the pub. 

 

Dhatura walked into a welcome sight. What she thought was going to be some normal, oddly named pub, she instead found a literally magical room. There were glasses cleaning themselves, people playing cards that exploded, and one random man stirring his coffee with a spoon whilst simply circling his finger.

 

Minerva ushered them to the seats in the middle of the floor and called over the barman with a wave. 

 

Stumping over happily, the man looked jolly as could be. “Ah, Professor! What can I do for you today?”

 

“Yes, hello Tom, two English breakfast for me and the girl,” she ordered patiently. 

 

“New student?” Tom asked, only to answer his own question. “Merlin’s pants it’s Dhatura Potter!”

 

McGonagall looked quite irate at the attention of the bar now focused on them.

 

“Yes, Tom quite, but we would prefer to be left alone, as we have things to discuss.” The woman was undoubtedly scary enough for Dhatura to respect her.

 

“Ah, yes sorry there Minerva, got ahead of myself, almost didn’t recognize the small ‘un,” he gave her a bright smile and sod off to place the order.

 

The two sat in silence, while it wasn’t uncomfortable, Dhatura had a lot of questions, even more since she had stepped foot into the pub. 

 

“Go on and ask your questions. The food will be a while anyway. You probably have a large amount so we might as well get started now, and when we go to the bookstore, load you up as to give you an understanding of this world,” the professor said tightly, as if she desperately wished this wasn’t the case. 

 

Dhatura thought for a minute about what she wanted her first question to be. 

 

“Ok, so how did that man know me? I don’t believe I’ve ever met him, or any of the people staring at us.”

 

McGonagall looked upwards as if asking the gods to send her strength. 

 

Carefully choosing her words, the professor set out for a long story. “Ms. Potter, to put it plainly, as a baby, when your parents were killed by a dark wizard-”

 

Dhatura interrupted her, not caring about the stern look sent her way. “My parents were killed in a car crash. That’s what the Dursleys told me. They said they were drunks and that’s how I got my scar.”

 

McGonagall scowled at this. “No they certainly were not! Magical folk are certainly stronger than that! They were killed by a dark wizard, in fact, the darkest wizard to reign in ages.” The older woman paused to gauge the young girl’s reaction. 

 

“Is that how I got my scar?”

 

“Yes, as far as we know, he sent the killing spell at you, only for it to simply bounce off of you.”

 

“W-what was his name?” She inquired hesitantly.

 

Just as hesitant, Minerva spoke softly, as to not be heard. “His name was V-Voldemort. There is a lot of fear behind the name, so many do not speak it aloud, but I suppose you are welcome to.”

 

“So my parents died for me and I killed an evil guy with a dumb name? Better than a car crash I suppose…” This was a lot to wrap her head around…

 

“Ms. Potter, rest assured, your parents were of the highest quality in every way possible. In fact I taught them when they were your age!” The professor promised her. 

 

Tom brought their breakfasts to them, winking quickly as Dhatura, which gave her a small smile. No one had ever been so nice, but to have both the professor _ and  _ this barman acting kindly to her, she felt it was a miracle.

 

As they ate, Dhatura processed this new information. Her parents had died,  _ for her _ . For so long, she had felt unloved and uncared for, but now, finding out she had had parents who loved her so much they  _ died _ for her caused a deep ache inside her, longing for these parents who are praised so heavily. 

 

Finishing their food, only for the dirty plates to float away from them, the professor looked over to her future pupil.“Anything else Ms. Potter? Questions?”

 

Thinking deeply, she responded, “I have a million questions, but I’m quite ready to meet my new world.”

 

A twitch of a smile happened upon Minerva’s lips, as the woman thought  _ ‘she ought to be a Gryffindor, just like her parents.’ _

  
  



	2. Ironic of You to Say That, You Look Like A-

Chapter 2 

 

Straightening herself out, the professor led Dhatura, while waving goodbye to Tom, the kind barman. Guiding her to the backdoor, the two exited the pub, only to come across a blank brick wall, with a few weeds growing out of the cracks.

 

McGonagall proceeded to bring out her wand, and tapped one of the bricks, only for the rest of them to move and form a gateway to the most amazing sight the girl had ever set eyes on. 

 

“Next time you need access from the Leaky Cauldron to the alley, just tap the third up and second across, Ms. Potter.” Dhatura nodded dumbly, too in awe of what lay before her.

 

There were people everywhere. There were shops everywhere. 

 

She saw things for potions, books, robes like the professor’s, magical brooms, and so so much more. 

 

It was quite overwhelming to say the least.

 

“Well, we best be off to the bank first. While we are there I have an errand I need to do for the Headmaster, so we shall go together,” the headstrong woman conducted. 

 

Still too taken with her surroundings, Dhatura once again nodded, which led the woman to internally smile at the girl’s wondrous and curious expression.

 

They appeared before a building as white as snow, as tall as a tower, and with magnificent bronze doors. Guarding bravely, were short creatures in uniforms of scarlet and gold. Whispering down to her, McGonagall said “Goblins.” She whispered back up the woman, “They look like they have something shoved up their ar-” The girl got a sharp elbow for her troubles.

 

They had clever faces, pointed beards, large scowls, and hand quite long fingers. 

 

As they approached, the goblins bowed and opened the doors to reveal a pair of silver doors, with haunting words engraved upon them spelling out:

 

_ Enter, stranger, but take heed _

_ Of what awaits the sin of greed, _

_ For those who take, but do not earn, _

_ Must pay most dearly in their turn, _

_ So if you seek beneath our floors _

_ A treasure that was never yours, _

_ Thief, you have been warned, beware _

_ Of finding more than treasure there. _

 

“Keep in mind Ms. Potter, goblins don’t take well to thieves,” she warned. But Dhatura took that as a personal challenge.

 

Entering the hall, McGonagall stalked briskly to the first free goblin available. 

 

“Good morning, we are here to take money out of Ms. Potter’s vault,” McGonagall started. 

 

“Have you got her key, ma’am?” The goblin asked not impolitely.

 

Prepared, McGonagall brandished it and handed it over. 

 

“That seems to be in order.” And before he could continue, the professor interrupted. 

 

“I have also got a letter from Professor Dumbledore, it’s about the thing in vault 713.” She seemed quite unwilling to disclose the matter in front of the young girl, or anyone else for that matter, but the goblin merely nodded. Dhatura simply minded her business for the time being, despite the exchange quirking her Nancy Drew-like curiosity.

 

“Yes, I will have someone take you both down to the vaults,” he agreed. “Griphook!”

A goblin, presumably Griphook, took the two through another set of doors and to a cart on a set of rails, lit only by torch light in what looked like a cave.

 

They stepped in, and the three hurtled off, as if the cart knew what it was doing without need for a guide. 

 

While her professor looked quite ruffled, and the goblin looked stoic as ever, the young Potter was whooping in her seat excitedly. It was the closest to a rollercoaster she had ever been on!

 

They stopped at a small door, pretty far down in the tunnels. Griphook got out, motioning for the girl to follow him. He unlocked the door with the key McGonagall had presented, and as the door opened, a sickly green gas bellowed out.

 

When the gas cleared, what they saw was once again another wondrous view. There was so much gold, silver, and bronze! After being told she had money set aside for her, she never imagined this much!

 

McGonagall, finally got a hold of her bearings, and swiftly conjured a large bag with the swoop of her wand, so that they could stack the coins in. “Yes, Ms. Potter, it’s all yours.”

 

Helping her put them into the bag, McGonagall explained the wizarding currency. “The gold ones are Galleons, the silver ones are Sickles, and the bronze ones are Knuts. There are 17 Sickles in a Galleon, and 19 Knuts to a Sickle.”

 

When they were done, McGonagall climbed back into the cart, and said “That should last you for a little while depending.” She then turned toward Griphook, “Onward toward 713 please and thank you.”

 

They rattled onward, even passing over an underground ravine. She attempted to look over the edge, curious as the cat that got killed, only for a still flushed Minerva to pull her back. 

 

When they reached the next vault, it showed no evidence of a keyhole, but knew not to ask too many questions. Griphook simply stroked the door, and it melted away. 

 

“If anyone but a Gringotts goblin tried that, they would be sucked into the vault,” the goblin croaked. “Get stuck in there for 10 years before we check.” He cackled. 

 

Dhatura knew there had to be something quite eye catching for such a stealthy mission for her to behold. She took a quick peak, not being able to help her curious nature, only for it to be virtually empty except for a small brown package, which the professor pockets and climbs back into the cart. 

 

They head back the way they came on the cart, and Dhatura questioned what she witnessed. 

 

***

 

Blinking rapidly in the sunlight, she was then ushered back up the alley by McGonagall. “Might as well get your uniform now. I have an… important owl to send to the Headmaster, but I will be back.”

 

Pushing the girl through the door, the woman then turned on a heel and marched quite aggressively towards what she assumed was an owl delivery or something similar. 

 

She hefted the heavy bag and continued fully into the shop called  _ Madam Malkin’s Robes For All Occasions _ , nervous to be alone for the first time all morning in a world she hardly knew. 

 

Who she assumed Madam Malkin was a short, round woman with an extraordinarily sweet face, as if she would pinch her cheeks and hand out candies. The woman in all mauve robes smiled and said “Hogwarts, dear?”

 

Nodding, the woman continued, “Got a lot here, a boy just being fitted up here now!”

 

She dragged the girl to the back of the shop, where a bored looking boy with a pale, pointed face was standing on a stool, while another witch pinned up his black robes. 

 

Madam Malkin stood her up on a stool next to the boy, then slipped a long black robe on her and immediately went to work, as she was quite small and skinny, so plenty of work to be done. 

 

“Hello,” the boy said, looking around disinterested. “Hogwarts?”

 

Dhatura gave a simple “Yes.” She didn’t like this boy so far. He seemed rude and bored which was never a good combination. 

 

“My father’s next door buying my books and mother’s up the street looking at wands,” the boy drawled with a smirk, as if proud that he got people to do things for him, the twit. “Then I’m going to drag them off to look at racing rooms. I don’t see why first-years can’t have their own. I think I’ll bully father into getting me one and I’ll smuggle it in somehow.”

 

She officially disliked this boy. Her mind briefly took her to 3 years ago, watching Dudley bully his parents into buying him some game consol or tellie or something. 

 

So she said nothing, but the boy still continued, not picking up the signals she was giving off to not talk to her. 

 

“Have  _ you  _ got your own broom?” This boy certainly was snooty. 

 

“No,” Dhatura snipped shortly, just trying to not get stabbed by pins in peace. 

 

The rude boy still didn’t take the hint. “Play Quidditch at all?”

 

“No,” at this point she was quite irritable. She just discovered a new world of her own, and this boy was ruining it just a bit with his uppity attitude. She hoped not everyone in this secret community was like him.

 

Though, Quidditch sounded quite interesting, especially if brooms were involved. 

 

“Well, _ I _ do - Father says it’s a crime if I’m not picked up to play for my house, and I must say I agree. Know what house you’ll be in yet?”

 

“No.” She felt quite stupid now. Dhatura didn’t know what quidditch was, or what the houses were, and felt she was going in blind. 

 

“Well no one really knows until they get there, do they, but I know I’ll be in Slytherin, all our have been - imagine being in Hufflepuff, I think I’d leave, wouldn’t you?”

 

“Not quite,” she responded, “I believe any house would be lucky not to have you.” Dhatura was quite done with his attitude. 

 

Not quite hearing her, distracted by the woman who just appeared in the shop, Professor McGonagall who looked apparently satisfied by the errands she had just run. 

 

“Well look at that woman! Looks like she ate a disgusting Bertie Botts’ bean…”

 

“Ironic of you to say that, as you look like a-” She got cut off by Madam Malkins, who accidentally stabbed her with another pin. 

 

Not processing her annoyance, the obliviously terrible boy kept on. “Wonder who she is…”

 

“Professor McGonagall at Hogwarts.” ‘ _ Play nice’,  _ she calmed herself.  _ ‘Don’t make enemies right off the bat.’ _

 

“Oh I’ve heard of her. Quite a stick in the mud I’ve heard.”

 

“She’s the deputy headmistress. And I think she’s quite nice. A lot nicer than you” Yes, she definitely did not like this boy. 

 

“Oh,  _ do _ you think so?” The boy said with a practiced sneer. “Why is she with you? Where are your parents?” 

 

“They’re dead, not that it’s your business.” All Dhatura wanted was to leave.

 

“Oh, sorry I s’pose.” He did not sound sorry in the least bit. “But of course they were  _ our _ kind, yes?”

 

Raising a dark eyebrow at the boy, “They were a witch and wizard if that’s what you mean.”

 

“I really don’t think they should let the other sort in, do you? They’re just not the same, they’ve never been brought up to know our ways. Some of them have never even heard of Hogwarts until they get the letter, imagine. I think they should keep it in the old wizarding families. What’s your surname anyway?”

 

The words  _ ‘Fuck off’ _ were on the tip of her tongue, only for Madam Malkins to once again interrupt. “That’s you done, deary.” 

 

Dhatura was thankful for having an excuse not to talk to the seemingly racist boy any longer. 

 

The boy, of course, had to get some last words in. “Well see you at Hogwarts, I suppose.”

 

Walking out with her professor, arms laden with more bags, she was quiet. 

 

Apparently seeing the look on her face, McGonagall questioned, “What’s wrong, Ms. Potter?” 

 

“Professor, what’s Quidditch?”

 

Looking slightly aghast, she said “Ms. Potter I forget how much you truly don’t know… Quidditch is quite a large sport for us wizards.”

 

“Please don’t make me feel worse. That boy in there was quite rude about everything. He said that people from non-magical families shouldn’t even be allowed in-”

 

“Ms. Potter, we call them Muggles. Non-magical people are muggles. And you are not  _ from  _ a muggle family, not that being from a muggle family is bad. Some of the most powerful and famous wizards and witches are muggle-born,” the professor proclaimed. “In fact your mother was a muggle-born!”

 

Wanting to move on from the subject, Dhatura asked “So what  _ is _ Quidditch then?”

 

“It’s one of our biggest sports. It’s played in the air, on broomsticks, there’s four balls, and three goals on each side. Perhaps we’ll get you a book?” McGonagall said as they entered the bookstore, called Flourish and Blotts. 

 

“And what are Slytherin and Hufflepuff?” Dhatura questioned.

 

“They are Hogwarts school houses. There is Gryffindor, Hufflepuff, Ravenclaw and Slytherin. I am the head of Gryffindor.”

 

Instead of asking more questions, the girl took to looking around the store for interesting books to help her learn more about everything she just found to be new. The shelves were so high they reached the ceilings. There was any form of book you could imagine; short, tall, big, small, odd shaped, and even an invisible book. She didn’t understand how one could potentially read it but it was interesting enough. 

 

“Do you have your booklist Ms. Potter?”

 

Dhatura took it out and it read:

 

_ The Standard Book of Spells (Grade 1) by Miranda Goshawk _

_ A History of Magic by Bathilda Bagshot _

_ Magical Theory by Adalbert Waffling _

_ A Beginners’ Guide to Transfiguration by Emeric Switch _

_ One Thousand Magical Herbs and Fungi by Phyllida Spore _

_ Magical Drafts and Potions by Arsenius Jigger _

_ Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them by Newt Scamander _

_ The Dark Forces: A Guide to Self-Protection by Quentin Trimble _

McGonagall grabbed a basket to hold all of the books and started picking out the books while Dhatura gazed at all of them, holding the basket as best she could as it got heavier and heavier. 

 

Thankfully, the professor also grabbed other books for the girl, remarking that they would help her adjust, or teach her more about their world. 

 

After paying and leaving the shop, they bought a trunk for her to carry her stuff, that the professor told her would always be somewhat light no matter the weight, and had some sort of extension charm in it to store a lot more. Dhatura truly loved magic. 

 

She pushed all of the stuff she had already gotten into the trunk, promising herself to sort it later, content to just not have to hold it all now. 

 

They went through the potions supply store, getting the cauldron and all of the potions ingredients required, not quite paying attention, knowing she was going to scour her books later for the information. 

 

“Just the wand left to get, then we shall see about getting you an animal. An owl, or perhaps a cat?” Dhatura thought on it, she didn’t particularly like owls, not after the last one she encountered. It could be useful, but who was she going to write? 

 

She also lived under a bridge. That was an entire problem of its own. She didn’t want anything stolen… 

 

Dhatura told herself not to think about it for now, and not to ruin her perfectly amazing day.

 

They come up to a shop, narrow and shabby. The letters on the sign, peeling gold, read  _ Ollivanders: Makers of Fine Wands Since 382 B.C.  _

 

They open the creaky wooden doors, and a faint ring called out somewhere deep in the shop. Looking around, there was pretty much nothing in the shop except for a single chair, and boxes upon boxes, stacked up to the high heavens. 

 

A blank room, yet it gave off what felt like the oldest magic possible, in the form of the dust and the silence that seemed to resound endlessly. 

 

“Ah, yes.” Dhatura jumped and grabbed her pocket knife in her jeans, not wanting it seen, but not wanting to be taken unaware. Neither woman had seen or heard the man approach. Before her, was an old man, pale in every single aspect, with wide blue eyes seeing through his two guests. “I thought I’d be seeing you soon, Dhatura Potter.”

 

“Hello…” The man was interesting but his eyes gave her the creeps. 

 

“You got the perfect mix of your parents it seems. You look remarkably like your mother, with her green eyes and her face, but your father’s skin tone and raven hair… I remember their wands so well, hers being ten and a quarter inches long, swishy, willow, perfect for charms work. His was mahogany, eleven inches, pliable, with a little bit more force, which was perfect for transfigurations…” 

 

He looked off into space. “They chose their wands well… I say that, but the wand chooses the wizard, no doesn’t it Minerva? Fir, dragon heartstring, nine and a half inches, quite stiff?”

 

“Yes, Mr. Ollivander, it’s doing quite well,” she said as she brandished her stick. 

 

Suddenly, Ollivander became rather close to Dhatura, and touched her scar with a long white finger. She preferred her personal space, but most wizards didn’t seem to understand the concept.

 

“And I’m sorry to say I sold the man the wand that did this to you and your family… Thirteen and a half inches, yew. Powerful, but in the wrong hands… Well if I knew what that wand was destined to do…” 

 

The professor spoke up, “You are as much to blame as any of us, which is to say none. No one could stop him.”

 

“Hmmm…” The man gave a thoughtful hum. “Well now - Ms. Potter, let’s get started.” The man started buzzing around her and the shop. “Which is your wand arm?”

 

“Well, I’m right-handed if that’s what you mean…”

 

“Hold out your arm, that’s it.” He tapped the measuring tape, and it began to fly around her, measuring on its own. At one point it even had measured her nostrils. 

 

All this happened, and Ollivander grabbed boxes from the wall, seemingly at random without care. 

 

“You see, every Ollivander wand has a magical core, normally unicorn hair, dragon heartstring, or a phoenix feather, though I am known to experiment. Woods are also quite different, and each combination produces a different kind of want, depending on the size and pliability too, of course. Therefore, there is no Ollivander wand that is the exact same.”

 

Despite thinking him crazy, Dhatura thought this all quite fascinating. 

 

“Alright try this, unicorn hair, 14 inches, rowan, and flexible.”

 

She waved the wand, only for the chair in the corner to hit the wall violently. 

 

“Here, maple, dragonheart string, 8 and a sixteenth inch, sturdy,” he said, only to immediately take the wand out of her hands the moment it touched her palm in the slightest. 

 

They tried at least 20 different wands until Ollivander said “Ah-ha! Here we go, you may be a tricky customer but I have a good feeling about this one! Here, aspen, 12 and three quarter inches, phoenix feather, incredibly flexible… A wand for powerful revolutionaries, as aspen is known for that, and the feather is a signal for bravery …” 

 

Dhatura swished the wand upwards towards the ceiling, and it produced beautiful yellow sparks. 

 

“Bravo! Good, good,” the man cheered. “But curious… very curious…” He wrapped the wand’s box for her. “You see, I remember every wand I have ever sold… And it just so happens that the phoenix whose tail feather is in that wand, also gave another feather for it’s brother wand - the brother wand, in fact, gave you that scar.”

 

Dhatura blanched.  _ ‘Of course nothing with me is that simple,’  _ she said, unknowingly damning her school career into a complex mess of adventures.

 

“But the wand chooses the wizard of course… So must expect great things from you, Ms. Potter, as your wand being of aspen will lead you on many quests… After all, You-Know-Who did many great things… Terrible but great…” 

 

She was officially creeped out, but handed the man the 7 galleons for her wand, then followed the professor out the door. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I got done early bc i was excited to post this! Thank you all literally so much for the comments, kudos, hits, and bookmarks! This means so much to me, as a budding college writer!! 
> 
> (Also if anyone knows a good beta or is willing to beta, pls lmk... I have good writing skills but i also drink a lot of Dumb Bitch juice so...)
> 
> also i forgot disclaimers before, but I dont own anything you recognize... Im poor...


	3. I Hate Magical Entrances

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So before you read, just know that I personally am a fan of OC's, because, as long as they are done well, they can bring something new to a story, a side or an influence that wasn't in the original work. I value it, and that's why I've included one. #sorrynotsorry
> 
> Also, I'm not a fan of bashing, but I am a fan of redemption arcs, so you'll figure out fairly quickly the route that I'm going to take with Dumbledore.

Chapter 3

 

By the time they left Ollivander’s it was time for lunch, as McGonagall took her back up through the alley and to the pub again. 

 

The two both ordered fish and chips, and the professor continuously opened her mouth to say something to the younger girl, only for words to apparently leave her. 

 

They got their orders, and a fresh pot of tea for the two of them. The teacups and saucers danced over to them on invisible currents of air, coming from the underneath of the bar where they were stored.

 

They ate quickly, wanting to get the rest of the shopping done in a swift manner. The chips, Dhatura resolved, were the best chips she’d ever had; better than any of the cheap chippies she had frequented whenever she got pocket money from strangers. 

 

They finished up, went through the backdoor and the bricks again, where McGonagall led her to an ice cream parlor,  _ Florean Fortescue’s Ice Cream Parlor.  _ There were so many flavors, and so many she’d never heard of, like Pumpkin Juice and another named Butterbeer, and even one called Fizzing Whizbees Sherbert. 

 

Eventually, she chose what she had known to be good, no matter what world she was in; chocolate and peanut butter swirl, which she was told was called “Hippogriff Swirl.” She had no idea what that meant, but was just as content. 

 

When they finally sat down after paying, outside watching the kids stare at a new broom that had just come out called the Nimbus 2000, Minerva finally spoke up.

 

“Ms. Potter, I have some news,” the professor announced. “I owled Professor Dumbledore, and he was as outraged as I was at your situation. It isn’t… right, for lack of a better word. Even if you weren’t the ‘Girl-Who-Lived’ as many call you, we cannot just let you live on the streets.”

 

Dhatura now had two little figures on her shoulders. One was telling her hopeful things like,  _ ‘You may find an actual home now! Just imagine…’  _ while the other hissed,  _ ‘Doesn’t matter does it? You were abandoned. No one will ever want you again.’  _ She shook any stray thoughts away.

 

“Then what’s gonna happen to me then? Magical foster homes? Yeah right…” She licked her ice cream to hide her frown from the professor.

 

The professor twitched a smile, the longest one the girl had seen the entire day. “No, Ms. Potter. Temporarily you are to live with me. I feel quite responsible.” She paused, as if to choose her words more carefully; she didn’t want the young girl to resent her.

 

“You see, I was there with the headmaster when he left you on the doorstep after the happenings that night in which you were orphaned.” Dhatura winced. “I saw what the Dursleys were like, I observed them the entire day, and thought they were quite crude.”

 

_ ‘That’s one way to put it,’ _ the girl thought. 

 

“But I allowed the headmaster to go through with his decision. Neither of us knew this was to happen, and we are very sorry. The headmaster thought it was for the best, and for reasons I do not know. But I know that the professor knew what he was doing and it was for a good reason.”

 

Dhatura thought on this, and knew it was her only option outside of remaining homeless. 

 

“I… Accept… It would be nice to have an actual place to stay, Professor McGonagall,” the girl thought aloud. 

 

“Dear, please call me Minerva for now. Of course, at Hogwarts you are still to call me Professor, but for now we are living in the same household,” the woman said, now giving a firm half smile. “Do you have any… er, valuables left at your spot? We can pick them up on our way back.”

 

This all felt so unreal to her. If she played her cards right, she might never have to go back to that bridge again.

 

Knowing nothing had was valuable enough for her to go back, the girl shook her head. She already had her knife for protection, but nothing else was needed from her site.

 

Minerva nodded, not sure if she liked that answer, or utterly despised it. She called out “Hellor!”

 

“Er, hello to you too… Minerva…” She thought the woman was now insane. Quite a common thought today. Wizards were just odd compared to what she knew to be true.

 

The older woman raised an amused eyebrow at the girl. “No dear, Hellor, is my house elf.” Just as she said the last syllable, a small figure popped directly in front of them. 

 

The small thing was like a bald child, with tennis ball eyes and huge bat ears, and it wore yellow flowery curtains like a toga. 

 

“Yes Mistress? What can Hellor do for you?” The small thing squeaked.

 

“Yes, Hellor, this is Dhatura Potter, she will be staying with us for the time being, at least until September when she leaves for Hogwarts. Can you please make sure that the room directly across from mine is ready for our guest?”

 

Snapping to attention, Hellor once again squeaked, “Yes Mistress! Anything else for the two Mistresses?”

 

An impish smile came across Minerva’s face, and it suited her quite well in Dhatura’s opinion. “Yes, Hellor, please prepare a nice birthday cake for the young girl, as today is her birthday. Please pop over to Dumbledore’s office and tell him he is invited over for dinner and cake if he so pleases, and to bring his great-niece as well.” The younger girl’s face flushed at the attention.

 

“Absolutely Mistress! Thank yous!” And the elf popped off.

 

Unable to make any noise except for a whine out of shock, Minerva got the girl’s attention, by saying, “Now, I believe we mentioned a pet before?”

 

***

 

Leaving the  _ Magical Menagerie _ , the sun was lower into the clouds, casting a burst of orange kissed light into the alley. 

 

Dhatura held onto a cage where her new kitten, a currently unnamed light ginger ragdoll cat of one month, was peacefully curled up. No one had picked the cat, as it was too tiny and was shunted from the litter, which reminded the girl of herself; tiny and abandoned, but slowly finding a new home. 

 

McGonagall joined her, picked up her trunk, filled to the top but not weighing anymore than two or three stones. 

 

“Grab my arm once more Dhatura,” and she held out her hand. 

 

The moment she held on, she felt the squeezing sensation again, and as soon as they got onto ground again, Dhatura somehow tripped and tumbled into a heap. 

 

She took a long look around the room. It was a spacious cottage, and was well lit, decorated in soft greys and blues, with accents of red and gold things plaquing the wall.

 

Instead of commenting, the professor called out for Hellor again. 

 

“Yes Mistresses?”

 

“Hellor, take Dhatura and her luggage to her room, please. Dhatura, unpack, or sort, whatever you want to do with the room is up to you, it’s yours. I will be running some errands, but I will be back quite soon. I’m simply getting basic clothes for you, just simple things, and anything that won’t fit, I will resize,” the woman ordered.

 

“Yes Mistress!” The house elf squeaked, and popped away with the trunk, only to pop back and drag Dhatura, who was clutching her kitten’s cage in shock. 

 

Holding on to her hand, the tiny creature brought her stumbling up the stairs, and careening to a room with a soft maroon door. The door opened and Dhatura was beyond happy and content. 

 

The room, painted with light yellows and blues, was the coziest place she could imagine. The bed sat in the middle of the room, a large full-sized bed. 

 

She ran up and jumped onto the beautiful, well-made bed.

 

“But Mistress Potter, I just made it…”

 

Dhatura didn’t hear her. She began to cry. Never before did she have actual things of her own, to keep and enjoy. She felt overjoyed, if not a teensy bit suspicious at how everything came together.

 

She heard Hellor pop away, off to do her duties, and instead of unpacking, she decided to take a nap. Dhatura bent down, plucked her snoozing kitten up, and brought her onto the bed with her. 

 

The last thing that crossed her mind before dozing off was gratefulness at all of the things she had received today.

 

***

 

Dhatura woke up to a subdued knock at the door. 

 

“I’m up! What time is it?” She felt a little bit crazed after waking up so suddenly from her little kip. 

 

She leapt up, disturbing her kitten, and slammed open the door, expecting to find Minerva or Hellor.

 

Instead what she found was another young girl, about 5 inches taller than her shrunken 4’1”. She had silvery blonde hair, an extraordinarily plain face with high brows. She had a kind smile, to match her opulent blue eyes. 

 

“Hello! The professors sent me to come get you! I’m Ariana Dumbledore!”

 

“Ah, uh, hi? I’m Dhatura Potter…” This was not what Dhatura had expected.

 

“Well, obviously, silly! Come, dinner is about to be served! We’re having bangers and mash! Hellor makes really good food, so dinner will be amazing!”

 

This girl was quite the ball of sunshine, and Dhatura thought it was fantastic if not a touch annoying. 

 

Ariana grabbed her arm and dragged her down the stairs the same way Hellor had.

 

They ran into the dinning room, to find an elaborate table set up with Minerva and an old man with youthful twinkling eyes. He had a beard longer than his waistband and half-moon glasses. 

 

“Hello, Ms. Potter, I am Albus Dumbledore, Headmaster to Hogwarts,” the man started. “It’s nice to finally see you again.” 

 

“Uh, hello, sir,” Dhatura stumbled. She realized she probably looked very rumpled from her nap, and her hair, a permanent rats nest, was even more mussed than usual. 

 

“I see you have met my great-niece, Ariana. She will be attending Hogwarts with you, entering at first-year as well.” He was quite a kind man.

 

“Yes! I am very excited to start at Hogwarts! I’m also super excited to have a friend to sit with on the train! We can go early, if grandfather will allow me to come here before going to the train, and we can find a compartment together!” 

 

Dhatura smiled cheerfully, but hesitantly. This was her first friend. And while she was way better than that bratty kid from the robes shop, she doubted the girl would want to actually be friends with her.

 

“That sounds cool!”

 

They all chatted for a bit longer, until dinner was officially served and they ate healthily. 

 

After eating the sausage and mashed potatoes, Hellor magicked the plates away with one snap of her fingers. 

 

A well-sized cake then floated out onto the table, candles lit bright as the stars above. Dhatura could hear the crackling of the fireplace from the sitting room. 

 

As they ate the cake together, the chatter pleasantly died away to eat the delicious chocolate sweet pastry. 

 

The silence was interrupted by the headmaster’s revelation. “Hellor! I do believe we should retire to the living room, with some hot chocolate, perhaps? We brought some gifts for the birthday girl.”

 

Dhatura blushed embarrassed, as she felt like she had already gotten enough from people today. 

 

They resided to the seats in front of the fireplace, as it roared and sparked comfortingly. The fire played a dance for the group, as they talked about what Hogwarts was like, and Dhatura asked questions about the wizarding world.

 

Finally, Ariana burst. “Uncle! Can we please give Dhatura her present now! I’m so excited to give it to her!”

 

The headmaster chuckled at his great-niece’s energy for giving. “Yes, my dear. Go grab them, please, I left them next to the front door.”

 

Ariana jumped up and ran towards the entrance, and rushed back. 

 

She handed them to Dhatura and returned to her seat, bouncing. 

 

The first package was small and wrapped quite badly. The other was the size of her head, but quite heavy in weight. 

 

She opened the smaller one, and in it was a gracefully braided bracelet with a little charm of a moon. The braid consisted of greens, blues and purples. She loved it, her first ever present given to her. 

 

“You see, I have the same one, but with a sun charm!” She stuck her wrist out to show it to Dhatura. “I made them myself but my Grandad was the one who bought the charms for me!” Ariana rambled.

 

Dhatura gave a quick smile to the girl. “It’s very nice! Thank you!”

 

“Yes! Now open the next one!”

 

Ripping the paper open, Dhatura found a box that held a soft yellow baby blanket, several pictures, and a large stack of journals entitled  _ ‘The Journal of Lily Jasmine Evans.’  _

 

The baby blanket had 3 moving animals on them, a stag, a big black dog, and a wolf. It brought back memories of a little stuffed dog called “Padfoot” she’d had a child that Dudley shoved into his parents’ document shredder, completely tearing it apart when they were 6 years old. Stitched into the blanket, in elegant cursive it read  _ ‘To my bright Sunflower.’ _

 

The photos looked slightly seared at the edges like they had been in a fire a long time ago. They had pictures of a young family; a deeply tanned man with large glasses and messy dark hair and a pale redhead with twinkling green eyes moved around the paper, beaming up at her, like they knew exactly who she was. Some featured a sandy haired man with deep scars, or a handsome man with long dark locks. Every once in a while, a chubby but scared looking blonde man peeked into the frames.

 

Tears came to her eyes. Before today she knew nothing about her past, or her parents who now learned had died for her. 

 

Lastly, Dhatura took hold of the dozen or so journals of her mother’s, knowing she was going to cherish them. 

 

She looked up to Professor Dumbledore, who was somber, the happy twinkle in his eyes now moved to a regretful glisten. 

 

“When Minerva owled me this morning about what had happened, I had no idea… I left you in that household for protection, but it seems I failed you, my dear. I never wanted this to happen. I should have taken Minerva’s advice, but I was too busy thinking about the greater good.” Looking at Dumbledore, anyone could see his remorse clear as a midsummer’s day. “I’m sorry.” 

 

Dhatura didn’t know what to say. She supposed she was too young, too unknowing of the world to fully put together what was said to her. There was still so much she didn’t know.

 

“Sir, I- I accept your apology. Someday, I would like answers, but right now I just want to be content, if that’s alright.” She tried to make herself sit up straight in her seat, and be more mature than her pixie-like stature allowed her to be. 

 

“Quite right, Ms. Potter. Everything in that box I scrounged up after visiting the site of your parent’s cottage several years ago. Most everything had been left to ruins, unfortunately, but I was lucky to find what I did.”

 

Dhatura was awe-struck at the lengths people were willing to go to, for  _ her _ . “This is the most amazing gift I have ever gotten, sir. You too, Ariana! Thank you! This has been an amazing day!” She beamed up at every person in the room, feeling warm and welcome for the first time that she could ever remember.

 

***

 

After promising Ariana she would ‘owl her’, the two Dumbledores left as gracefully as they came, and Dhatura got a shower due to much prompting from Minerva.

 

Finally done for the night, Dhatura looked over her gifts one last time, her unnamed kitten curled up her again. Taking her old baby blanket from the box, she ran her hand over the stitching of the word  _ ‘Sunflower’.  _ She looked to her tiny ragdoll, who gazed at her expectantly. “Do you like the name Sunflower?”

 

The kitten, now called Sunflower, purred lovingly. 

 

She set the blanket on her pillow and moved on to look at the pictures.

 

She gazed at her parents. Her mum looked to be very pregnant, probably with her. They were so young, probably not even 22 years of age. Her dad, just as tan as she herself was, was beaming at Lily, touching her stomach with such joy in his eyes that it brought Dhatura to tears. 

 

She realized, she missed her parents. There were holes in her heart where they belonged. 

 

She grew up on her own, in the dirty underground of London, and she wanted her parents so desperately now it pained her. 

 

Longing for the connection that she lacked for such an extended time, Dhatura looked to her mother’s diaries for guidance. 

 

And she started to read.

***

 

_ “30 January 1971, _

 

_ I’ve finally gotten my Hogwarts letter after 2 years of waiting! I’ve been waiting for today, because Sev told me that you get your letter on your 11th birthday, or even a bit before in some cases.  _

 

_ It’s really nice to have a friend who already knew all about this magical side of the world. I’m not going in blind, and I’m learning everyday. Sev once brought a book of household spells with him that he took from his mother, Mrs. Prince. It’s all so interesting! _

 

_ Tuney, though, still keeps warning me away from him. I feel bad, like I’m betraying her, but honestly, I’m just so curious about this world I’m about to enter! _

 

_ Mum and dad were shocked, but they’re so proud of me. I’m thankful they were never the religious sort, because they might have condemned me or something. _

 

_ Mum told me that we would go to Diagon Alley together in June, and I’m so excited I’m counting the days…” _

 

***

 

Dhatura fell asleep reading the journal, while Sunflower purred, curled up on a pillow. She felt like, while they were gone from her life, she had a piece; a tiny piece enough to give her the parental guidance she had prayed to the gods for years for. 

 

The next thing she knew was the sound of the ocean from outside her window of the cottage, the feeling of sunlight on her cheeks, and the vibrations of a quiet knocking at her door. 

 

“Dhatura? It’s early but I have breakfast and we have plenty of things to do today,” Minerva called. “All of your clothes are in the dresser, I had Hellor put them there.”

 

She shouted an affirmation, heard Minerva walk back downstairs, and hopped up.

 

She went to the dresser in the corner of her room and saw so many clothes she had to step back in a startled manner.

 

Shakily, she picked out a striped navy and red shirt, pairing it with a random pair of light jean shorts. She didn’t expect all of this, maybe a jumper and a single outfit, but definitely not a whole wardrobe.

 

The clothes shrimped her a bit, but that was fine. 

 

Walking over to the mirror, Dhatura ran a hand through her hair; long, dead, ratty but so much like her father’s. Her skin, tan as her father’s, but freckles dotted her face the same way they did her mother. She looked exactly like her mother, small and fairy-like, but Dhatura looked more shrimpy and skinny. 

 

And her eyes, green as the healthy leaves waving through the summer sky, the same shade of her mum’s.

 

Knocking herself out of her stupor, Dhatura left her room. She raced downstairs, ready to eat and find out what her day was to be.

 

The two women ate a hearty breakfast of porridge and toast, as Minerva explained the plans.

 

“We are going to St. Mungo’s Hospital for Magical Maladies and Injuries, as I scheduled an appointment with a pediatrician to look over your health. We want you healthy and ready for Hogwarts.” Dhatura nodded. “Then we shall eat lunch at home, and after, you can wander around here, sort anything if need be, while I make a stop to the Ministry and Gringotts to register myself as your guardian.” 

 

“Ok,” she said simply, as there was not anything she felt objectionable. 

 

“Then, if we have time before supper, we should cut your hair, as it is most likely insufferable as it is, correct?” Minerva inquired.

 

“W-well it’s not too bad if I leave it up, but yes that would be nice,” Dhatura claimed. 

 

Their dished popped away at the hands of Hellor. 

 

“Might as well get on with the day,” the older woman exclaimed. 

 

They finish getting ready for the day and meet back at the front door of the cottage. 

 

“I don’t have Floo powder or a Floo connection, which is another way of travelling, so we are apparating again, to the London entrance of the hospital. Grab hold again,” Dhatura once again cringed and touched Minerva’s arm. She didn’t even want to question what Floo was.

 

Once again, the feeling came and went in an instant, and she opened her eyes to see an alleyway of central London. Minerva led her across the street to what seemed like an abandoned department store, made of crumbling red brick. 

 

Stopping right in front of the window, the woman grabbed hold of her hand after looking around to see if anyone was watching them, and stepped them into the window and through the looking glass.

 

“I hate magical entrances,” Dhatura said to herself, and not for the last time. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for all the kudos, hits, comments and bookmarks! They are all appreciated! I'm going to get around to answering comments soon, but writing is hard, and I'm babysitting a lot whilst still trying to find a stupid job for the summer. 
> 
> Thank you!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!


	4. A Holy Terror Despite Having Such A Cutesy Name

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *Child abuse, malnourished, and scars trigger warning*

Chapter 4

 

Dhatura stumbled once again., and was beginning to think it was just in her nature. 

 

Blinking her eyes open, she found herself on the floor of quite a normal hospital from what she understood they looked like in the Muggle world. Minerva walked up to the lady at a desk and spoke squarely. “Here to see Healer Lockley for an appointment for Ms. Potter.”

 

The witch at the desk sighed loudly, like she was annoyed to be doing her job. “Pediatrics is on floor 7, right above the ‘Muggle Illness Ward’. Check in there. Good day.” The woman was quite rude and spoke in a flat voice, simply turning the page on her magazine that read “Witch Weekly”. 

 

Minerva simply raised an eyebrow and moved on, ushering her young ward. 

 

They made it to the 7th floor, to find a male orderly sitting at the front desk. “Appointment for Ms. Potter with Healer Lockey?” Minerva said stiffly.

 

This man was much brighter. “Ah yes! Ms. Potter! Nice to see you! Yes, come right back! I’m Nurse Patterson, how are you feeling today Ms. Potter?”

 

She beamed right back at him. “I’m feeling better than I have in ages, thank you!”

 

“Amazing! Let me get you to your room then take your vitals alright? Then the doctor will be right in.” She nodded along with the man.

 

She was led to a light blue room, and the walls had moving painted fish. There was seaweed and sand and crabs and so much more. You could tell it was a room for the children’s section.

 

Minerva sat on a visitor chair in the corner, while Nurse Patterson nudged her onto the bed.

 

“Now lie down, I’m going to perform some diagnostic spells and they work best when you’re flat.”

 

She does as the man says and watches as he waves his wand silently over her, literally working his magic. 

 

“I was told this was your first doctor’s appointment ever so I’m going to do another diagnostic test for your eyesight. Please sit up.”

 

She did as she was told and he carried on talking. “I’m in training to be a magical optometrist, but I’m doing my rounds on the kids’ floor, so it’s no trouble. Now, do you have any problems seeing? Is it blurry when you read things close, or far?”

 

She thought for a moment. “Er, yes. I have to squint to read most of the time.” He nodded, and read the diagnostic.

 

He raised an eyebrow. “That must be an understatement, because this is telling me you're nearly blind… Tell you what, I’ll go get your glasses sorted out and Healer Lockley can take care of everything else. I’ll leave the diagnostic reports with her.”

 

He left and the room went silent, as Dhatura looked around wondering what the results were going to be. 

 

A knock came at the door. A short, curvy woman with dark skin entered. “Hello there Ms. Potter! I’m Healer Patricia Lockley. I got your results here. First I must ask, Ms.-sorry, Professor McGonagall to leave the room. This information is private and for medical purposes. You are welcome to tea and biscuits in the sitting room. You will get a record of the results but the talk is private”

 

The woman stiffly nodded and left swiftly but gave Dhatura a comforting nod as she exited. 

 

“Alright, let’s get started, dear!” The woman cheered. “Alright, so your tests show signs of severe malnutrition. I know it’s probably a tough subject, but you only have to give the basics.”

 

The woman was quite comforting. “Er- I lived with my aunt and uncle, Muggles who hated me. They didn’t feed me much, nothing if I was being punished… And then they, uh, left and I lived in London under a bridge” The woman gazed down and wrote in her notes. 

 

“Ok, we can fix that but it  _ will _ take time. And there is also a bone fracture in your left arm that never healed properly. Does it give you any pain? And can you tell me how it was caused?”

 

“My arm hurts every once in a while but nothing too bad. Uh- my uncle threw me down the stairs when I was 7, because he was mad that I grew my hair back overnight…” Dhatura mumbled this. It was all quite intrusive. 

 

“Also, before I move on, I’m required to ask this. Since you were living in several bad situations… In either situation were you ever forced to do… things with your body that didn’t want to do?” Dhatura looked highly embarrassed.

 

“No, I, uh, knew people in the circle I was in who were, but I was fortunate enough to, uh, not,” she stuttered. The healer simply nodded and moved on.

 

“The scans also showed evidence of a lot of scar tissue, particularly on your back. If you don’t mind, can you show me? You don’t have to, obviously, but it would be helpful,” the healer spoke softly as if not to scare the girl.

 

“I think that would be-be o-ok. May I please keep my training bra on?”

 

“Absolutely, dear. I will turn around and jot some notes until you tell me you’re ready.”

 

Dhatura took off her red and blue shirt. She turned around so her back was facing the healer, and gave the ok to turn around.

 

She heard the healer give a light gasp. There were scars all up and down her back. Most of them were horizontal, but a few were vertical, running parallel to her spine. It looked like a cruel man’s tic-tac-toe board. 

 

“Oh dear. I don’t believe these will ever go away completely, but there is scar cream that will help them fade.”

 

Dhatura tilted her head down, as if ashamed. The doctor allowed her to put her shirt back on.

 

Healer Lockley must have read her mind because when she was finished, and they faced each other once again, she locked eyes with the girl. “Scars don’t make you less anything. They make you more brave, capable, and worthy of love. Don’t ever feel ashamed of the battles you have fought, because even if you have lost them and been scarred, it still means you have survived and conquered.”

 

The woman looked like she knew this from experience and wasn’t just talking out of her ass. Dhatura’s eyes hit her lap as she pondered these words.

 

The healer nodded to her and left, prompting Minerva and the nurse from before to come back in. 

 

The bright blonde man perked up and smiled at her. “Alright! We have your glasses! We also have to talk about the regimens you are now to be on! And here, Profesor, is your copy of the results.”

 

Minerva nodded, intent on catching every word. Her hand clenched the folder given to her.

 

“Alright, so since you are heavily malnourished, we are going to prescribe you a daily Bone-Strengthening Potion  _ and _ a daily Nourishment Potion so you can catch up with other girls your age. Unfortunately, it’s so deep-rooted at this point that it will help you catch up, but you will still always be a little bit below the curve. Chances are you won’t grow beyond 5’1 or 5’2.” The man grinned at that. “Reminds me of my older sister; destined to be short.”

 

He moved on, after seeing the room lighten a bit of the tension that had previously gripped the room. 

 

“Alright, and the bone potion should also help fully heal the left arm’s unhealed fracture. We are also providing scar cream for the scar tissue on the back. Unfortunately it won’t really work on the scar, seeing as it’s a cursed scar and there’s not much anyone can do.”

 

The man turned around to grab a small object he had left on the counter. “Lastly! Here are your glasses! There weren’t many frames to pick from, and I sensed you were neither a girly-girl nor a tomboy, so I picked some frames somewhat in the middle.”

 

The glasses were perfectly round, and gleaming new. The frames were black as the night. She put them on and they rested perfectly on her pert nose. 

 

Nurse Patterson conjured a hand mirror and held it up for her. She eyed herself and they were perfect! The glasses suited her face rather well.

 

“Yes I thought that you would like them. They don’t block your emerald eyes either!” The man was over the moon that she liked his pick.

 

She shined a smile at him and he returned it full force. “Alright! I’m going to go grab your prescriptions and then you may leave!”

 

He ran off, and Minerva tucked the folder somewhere into the folds of long mauve robes.

 

Patterson came back, with a large paper bag of supplies, and saw them off, wishing them a good rest of the day.

 

***

 

It was noon when they apparated home for lunch, to see Hellor floating the food and lunch set to the table. 

 

She squeaked happily. “Ah, Mistresses! You’re home just in time! Lunch is served. You is having grilled cheeses and tomato soups! Pumpkin juice is on the table!” And the tiny thing popped away.

 

The two women sat at the table and ate graciously, happy for the entire healing ordeal over with. 

 

They finished quickly, both famished before, but now their full bellies were content. 

 

Minerva announced to her that she would be leaving for her aforementioned errands to Gringotts and Ministry, and she was allowed free reign on the premises. If she were to have any questions, she was to summon Hellor.

 

So the professor popped off, and Dhatura called out to Hellor that was going to explore the land around the cottage. 

 

She set off, new blue rain boots stuffed onto her feet. She marched down the sloped hillside besides the cottage and landed in the sand. In front of her was a lovely beach, with a wild sea in front of it. 

 

It stretched off the coast of the small island and Dhatura was curious. She called out, “Hellor, I have a question!” The compact elf popped into existence on the beach. 

 

“How can I help you Mistress Potters?” She squeaked.

 

“Where exactly… are we? Where is the cottage located?”

 

The elf perked up, “We is in Scotland! The cottage is being on a remote island up north!”

 

The girl nodded and dismissed the elf kindly.

 

Sitting onto the gritty sand, Dhatura got herself comfortable. She let her hair down ungracefully tangling with the knotted mess as it fell upon her back.

 

She allowed herself to contemplate everything, but also let her mind wander. She knew part of who she was now, something she had been questioning for years. She had a past, she’d had parents, a home, and so much more. 

 

Dhatura’s thoughts meandered to Hogwarts, which was only a month away. Anticipation gripped her tight as her heart sped behind her ribcage. 

 

She was going to learn  _ magic! _ It felt better than a miracle, because for so long she had nothing, but now she was going to go to school to learn magic and she already had a friend! She had more than one dirty outfit, and school supplies, and a bracelet, and so much more than she could have ever imagined for herself. 

 

Now all she had to do was play the waiting game.

 

***

 

It was late afternoon by the time Minerva got back and she looked quite exhausted. She waved off any of Dhatura’s attempts to get her to rest, as the woman was determined to sort out her hair.

 

The professor magicked up a comfortable wooden chair for the girl to sit while she tugged and ripped at her hair in the clean bathroom. 

 

Minerva got right down to work. 

 

Dhatura winced every second, imagining that the comb must already look like a small dog. 

 

The older woman soothed her, “Halfway there. Now we just have to cut.” And suddenly a pair of scissors reached her right hand from where they sat on the bathroom counter in front of the mirror. 

 

Next, she heard the snipping of the scissors through her hair, feeling the blades touch her mid-back as they glided. She was given the ok to stand up and immediately rifled a hand through her hair, effectively mussing it up. Behind her Minerva smiled, lost in a memory of James Potter and his tendency to do the exact same thing. 

 

“M-Minerva…? Coul-Could I have bangs?” Dhatura asked timidly, then quickly followed up. “N-Not that I don’t like my scar being shown, it is wicked but I think it might just be easier to not have people constantly staring at it. I had bangs before, but they grew out.”

 

“I’ll see what I can do,” the Hogwarts professor replied, and bent in front of the girl who was once again seated on the chair. 

 

She lengthed out the hair, and held it ready to chop. “Ready, Dhatura?” And she nodded.

 

This time, she saw the scissors gliding in front of her. Some tiny stray hairs tickled her nose as they floated past her face. 

 

Once again, Minerva patted her shoulder, telling her it was ok to look. 

 

She liked her new hairstyle a lot so far, constantly combing the wildness with her fingers throughout dinner, and even afterwards as she read through her mother’s journal, puzzling over this mysterious ‘Sev’.

 

***

 

The next several weeks went in accordance; in the mornings, she would eat breakfast and take her nutrition potions, which she learned more potions taste incredibly terrible, like rotten apples and milk. 

 

Then until lunch she would read and study from her textbooks, as well as the other books Minerva had her buy. The more she learned the more fascinated she was. 

 

They would eat lunch together, peacefully, while Dhatura talked to her guardian about what she was learning. 

 

After lunch, Dhatura would explore the cottage and the small Scottish island it rested upon. 

 

Then, just before dinner, almost like clockwork, an owl would arrive from Ariana, just as she had promised her. She would read the letter over, and respond in kind, sometimes asking questions about things she didn’t quite understand from the other girl’s letters.

 

Supper was also a quiet affair for the two. They ate, then went their separate ways for the night, except on Friday nights, where they would bandy around in front of the fireplace, drinking hot chocolate and told whatever stories they had, though Minerva had quite a few more.

 

On other nights after supper, Dhatura would shower, ready for bed, and read her mother’s journals while cuddled up to Sunflower, dozing off into the night.

 

Life was quite serene, and it was the most comfortable she had ever been. 

 

But she continued to wait for the other shoe to drop, just in case.

 

***

 

Hellor woke her up early, as she had asked. Dhatura jumped up, shoved her glasses on and began grooming herself for the day.

 

She saw herself practically vibrating in front of the mirror, thrilled for her next adventure.

 

She combed through her hair, giving a valid attempt at taming it to no avail, then rushed around to get ready and do last minute packing.

 

It was September 1st, and she was starting Hogwarts.

 

She was already packed and sorted. And re-packed and re-sorted. Thrice.

 

She practically flew down the stairs, where Hellor had set up a large breakfast for the two residence, three, including the young Dumbledore who was set to arrive at any moment by what she was told was called a ‘portkey’. She would find out soon enough what one was like, as that’s how Minerva was sending them to the train station ‘9 and ¾’.

 

How were they to go to a station  _ between _ 9 and 10? She imagined there was a magical entrance, but Minerva told them that the portkey was to take them directly onto the train platform. 

 

At the last minute, Dhatura begged Hellor to give her a fancy braid, to which a small creature relented, holding quite a soft spot for the girl. 

 

As the elf finished her braid, and coerced the girl to her daily potions before her guest came, the household all heard a loud  _ ‘oof’  _ alerting them to Ariana’s arrival.

 

Dhatura, a bundle of nerves, all but threw herself at her proclaimed best friend of a month. 

 

“Dhatura!  _ Today! _ We’re going  _ today! _ I cannot believe it!” The girl squealed, just as excited as her best friend. 

 

The two skipped back to the cottage, and sat for breakfast, waiting for a harried McGonagall to join them until they heard, “You girls can eat without me! I’m running behind, I’ll be down to send you off with a portkey when you’re done!”

 

The two girls giggled at the idea of their new professor procrastinating like a student. 

 

They ate and chatted together, as they hadn’t seen each other in person for almost a month, but owled each other every single day.

 

They had run Minerva’s owl, Esme, ragged until Ariana got her own which she named Lady Marshmallow. The thing was literally a holy terror despite having such a cutesy name. It liked to dive bomb Dhatura, and had the habit of biting whoever didn’t give her a treat.

 

And so Dhatura continued her streak of not getting along with owls.

 

The best friends finished up, and travelled up to Dhatura’s room to chase her kitten into her travel cage. Dragging her stuff down, she called for her guardian. They were ready to leave, overly eager to get there.

 

It was 10.15 by the time Minerva came down, looking haggard. She brought with her handkerchief. She speaks a spell into it, hugs Dhatura quickly, then wishes the two good luck.

 

The next thing the two knew, it felt like two hooks had grabbed into their navels, whooshing them around wildly.

 

They tumbled to the ground in an uncomfortable heap of limbs. Magical families, used to this sort of phenomenon, stepped around them and kept moving toward the gleaming brilliant red train in front of them. 

 

The Hogwarts Express was eye-catching in a way that Dhatura didn’t know any old train could be. 

 

The dusted themselves off and maneuvered their way to the train passed a large family of kind-looking red-heads. 

 

Dhatura being the bean-pole she was, could barely carry her trunk, much less lift it onto the train. Ariana, knowing this was a point of pride, tried not to laugh or patronize the girl. 

 

But that didn’t stop the two twin read-heads from trying.

 

“Want a hand?” The twin on the left asked.

 

Dhatura, prideful as ever glared at the two, but knew was going to lose the battle valiantly. “I s’pose I will let you, seeing as you two seem to only be courteous and know that I could do it myself… Right?”

 

The two twins shared a look, exchanging humorous looks. They instantaneously began to put on a  performance.

 

“Why yes m’lady!” “We would never think anything else of such a brave-” “-capable-” “-knight of the highest order!”

 

She slumped, and Ariana hid a laugh.

 

Grumbling, knowing she had been beaten, she mumbled, “Just get on with it, yeah?”

 

They grinned. “Fred and George Weasley at your service! Let us go!” And they grabbed both of the girls’ things and ushered them in, finding the first empty compartment. 

 

She quickly brushed her bangs away for a second, already exhausted from the fall and the rush. She didn’t witness it but one twin nudged the other and nodded his head at the revealed scar, but they said nothing. Araian, however, noticed the exchange and was thankful for their silence; her friend already had enough to deal with, and didn’t want to see the girl pressured even more by the fame shoved onto her.

 

The identical red-heads both caressed a different hand, bowed, and left with a “Fare-well our precious Warrior Queen!”

 

Ariana snorted quietly. “If Hogwarts is anywhere near as entertaining as those two, our school career will be quite the comedy show.”

 

And the two waited for their journey to begin. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you everyone once again! I continue smiling everyday seeing how much people are enjoying this so far! I'm enjoying this just as much!
> 
> And just an fyi all my chapters are un-beta'd so if anyone wants, or knows how to get a beta pls lmk. I'm not too desperate but I think it's good to have one, right?


	5. Smell Ya Later

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Updating twice in one night bc insomnia hit and I had nothing better to do.

Chapter 5

 

They heard the red-head family wishing each other goodbye. 

 

“Mum! We reckon we just saw Dhatura Potter!”

 

Hearing this from the train, Dhatura herself blushed and shrunk in her seat. 

 

“Oh hush, the poor girl isn’t an animal in the zoo to be staring at!” The young girl was thankful for that comment. “Ron! Dear, you’ve got dirt on your nose!” And she took out a napkin, swiping at his face. 

 

He wriggled away, disgruntled at being babied. “Mum! Geroff!”

 

“Awwwww, does ickle Ronnikins got somfink on his nosie-wosie?” They heard the twins coo in unison, in the same fashion they seemed to do everything.

 

The youngest boy muttered an irritable, “Shut up gits,” at his older brothers.

 

Their mother, sweet as she was, moved on. “Where’s Percy?” She asked, just as another boy walked up. He was already in his black and red robes, and on them shined a gold badge with a big  _ P _ on it. 

 

“Can’t stay long, Mother,” the boy, Percy, spoke bigly. “I’m up front, the prefects have got two comparments up front-”

 

The twins entered the conversation. “Oh, are you a  _ Prefect _ , Percy?” “You should have said-” “-something, we had no-” “-bloody idea!”

 

They faked a puzzled expression. “Hang on, I think I remember him saying something about it…” “Once-” “Or twice-” “A minute” “All summer-”

 

Tired of being the butt of the joke, the oldest boy huffed, “Oh shut up…” 

 

The mother rolls her eyes at their antics and turns to the twins, “Now, do try not to get in too much trouble this year? If I get one owl telling me something like you’ve blown up a toilet, or- or-”

 

“We’ve never blown up a toilet-” “But thanks for the idea, Mum!”

 

“It’s not funny! And do try to look after Ron…”

 

The little girl on the mother’s side tugged on her sleeve. “Mummy! Fred and George said Dhatura Potter is on the train! Can I please go see her! She must be so cool…” 

 

Once again playing the ever stern mother, she said, “What have I told you lot, she is just an ordinary girl! Become friends with her if you will, but don’t treat her any different, you hear? She’s already had enough pain for one lifetime.”

 

The family all looked at one another, then hugged and gave their final goodbyes to their sister and mother.

 

Dhatura felt even more embarrassed now but thankful for their mother’s words. _ ‘I am just a normal kid.’ _

 

***

 

The train whistle blows and they hear the little sister begin to cry. 

 

One of the twins reached out and yelled, “Don’t cry, Ginny! We’ll send loads of owls home!” “We’ll send you a Hogwarts toilet seat!”

 

Their mother was scandalized.  _ “George!”  _

 

They laughed. “Just joking, Mum! Keep your hair on!”

 

The train moves faster and faster until the women of their family are left on the platform and their speeding towards their first year at Hogwarts. 

 

A knock came at the door, and the door slid open revealing the youngest male red-head of the family. He pointed at the empty seats, “Are any of these seats taken? Everywhere else is full…” The boy blushed as if sheepish that he had nowhere else. 

 

The girls who sat across from one another exchanged a look and nodded for him to sit. 

 

The boy still seemed to have the dirt on his nose, too. 

 

The compartment door slid open again. “Hey Ron.”

 

The twins were back. 

 

“Listen, we’re going down the middle of the train - Lee Jordan’s got a giant tarantula that he’s sneaking in as a pet.”

 

Ron muttered, “Right.”

 

“Dhatura, unknown girl-” they barely heard the  _ ‘it’s Ariana’ _ coming from the girl herself. “Right, Ariana, we have introduced ourselves, m’ladies, but we have yet to introduce our brother, Ronald Weasley.”

 

The boy flushed once again, but the twins carried on. “Alright well, we’ll be going!” “Smell ya later!” And before the door shut they could hear the other twin say, exasperated, “Mate, I’ve told ya, it just doesn’t work…”

 

Their voices faded down the hallway of the train.

 

Dhatura knew he was going to ask the question before he did. In fact the boy looked about ready to burst when- “Are you really Dhatura Potter?”

 

Ariana looked a bit annoyed at the boy for his insensitivity, but Dhatura didn’t mind. She was told by her new guardian that was to be expected, as she _ had _ defeated the most evil wizard of all as a baby. 

 

She simply nodded. 

 

“O-oh s-sorry I just thought it might’ve been one of the twins’ jokes again…” He paused. “And have you really got the- you know…”

 

Dhatura wordlessly pushed aside her fringe, showing the boy her lightning bolt scar. “Can’t remember a thing, though, can I? Was a baby.” 

 

He looked away, still quite awkward, and felt bad about pushing too hard. 

 

So Ariana struck up conversation, always willing to make friends, even if they were a bit insensitive. 

 

“So are all your family wizards?” Ariana inquired. 

 

Ron perked up a bit, seeing the hand he’d been given. “Er- pretty sure yeah. My Mum said she has a 2nd cousin who’s an accountant but never talks much about him.”

 

Dhatura, always yearning to know more about the culture of their world, said, “Then you must know loads about the wizarding world!” 

 

Ron nodded. “Yeah, I guess. I heard you lived with muggles. What were they like?”

 

This was an innocent question, as only a single person outside of doctors and the Hogwarts staff knew about the whole ‘homeless’ thing, and that was Ariana. Who was coincidentally looking alarmed at Dhatura, making sure she would break or cry or anything of the sort. 

 

“Er- yeah. Muggles. Lived with ‘em…” She was obviously lying out of her teeth. “Er- they’re not all bad. Sorta like wizards; some are good, some are bad.”

 

Ariana switched the topic, very quickly, not wanting her friend to think too hard about the past. “Yes, well I wished that I grew up with three brothers. I’m an only child too.”

 

“Five,” the boy looked quite sad. “I’m the sixth kid to go to school. Bill, Charlie, Percy, Fred and George, me and lastly, Ginny. I just… feel a lot of pressure to go above and beyond. Bill was Headboy, Charlie was Quidditch Captain, Percy is a Prefect, and Fred and George are just popular because they’re funny.”

 

The girls shared a look. Ariana, ever the mediator, took hold of the situation. “Listen, it may seem like you have a lot to live up to, but you can’t let it be an anchor. You are you. Not your other brothers. Even if you follow in their footsteps, just learn who you are and what you’re good at, because you aren’t them.”

 

_ ‘Bloody deep, that was’ _ , Dhatura thought to herself.

 

Ron looked a little bit happier. “Yeah, I s’pose you’re right Ariana… Plus, I can beat them all at chess, even Bill! And I’m better at taking care of animals than they are. I got Percy’s old rat, and he looks loads better now than when Percy had ‘im.”

 

He takes out an old, sleeping fat rat. Dhatura got a weird feeling from it, not quite knowing why. 

 

“His name’s Scabbers. He’s not impressive or anything but he’s been in the family for so long, and it could be worse. I could have a toad or something stupid like that.”

 

They all talked for a bit longer, about their home lives, Dhatura kept up the lie about living with the muggles. 

 

“Yeah, before Min- er- Professor McGonagall told me, I didn’t know wizards existed or anything about Voldemort-” Ron gasps, while the two girls looked confused.

 

“You-  _ you just said You-Know-Who’s name! _ ”

 

Dhatura raised an eyebrow. “See, I didn’t know not to say it, but it’s only a name. That’s what Professor McGonagall told me.”

 

Ariana nodded along, taught the same thing by her great-uncle and grandfather. 

 

By then, the train had passed through London.

 

Around half-past noon, a smiling, dimpled old woman passed with a cart. “Anything off the cart dears?”

 

Dhatura and Ariana move to get some things, suddenly feeling their hunger. Dhatura had never seen any of this kind of candy, ‘raised’ in a muggle world with sweets like Mars Bars. They didn’t have Mars Bars. 

 

Instead there was a colorful array of strange sweets, like Bertie’s Botts Every Flavour Bean, Drooble’s Best Blowing Gum, Chocolate Frogs, Pumpkin Pasties, Cauldron Cakes, Liquorice Wands, and so much more than she could even name. 

 

Not knowing what she would like, she got a few of everything, as it wasn’t like she didn’t have money for goddess sake. She paid the witch 11 sickles and 7 bronze knuts, and hauled it all inside. 

 

Ariana came back with just a Cauldron Cake, looking quite amused at Dhatura. 

 

“Hungry are you?” The girl inquired of her best friend. 

 

“Eh, not quite yet, but I want to try it all because I’ve never had any of it all. Thought we could all share.”

 

Ron’s head came up quickly, done staring at the ugly lumpy package of a sandwich in his lap. “T-thank you!” And with the sandwich forgotten, the friendship between the three in the room officially began.

 

***

 

“What are these?” Dhatura asked aloud, holding up a Chocolate Frog. “It’s not really a frog is it?”

 

Ariana replied first, “No, silly.”

 

Ron carried on, “It’s charmed to move like one. But check out the card! I’m missing Agrippa.”

 

She moved to check the card at the bottom of the box, catching and munching on the animated chocolate. 

 

Ariana, now sitting next to her, looks over her shoulder. “Oh, it's Uncle Albus!” The Dumbledore in the card winks up at her. 

 

The boy looked a bit stricken. “Dumbledore is your _ uncle _ ?”

 

The blonde grinned. “Great-Uncle technically. He’s more of a second grandfather if anything.”

 

Dhatura read the card:

 

_ ALBUS DUMBLEDORE _

_ CURRENTLY HEADMASTER OF HOGWARTS _

_ Considered by many the greatest wizard of modern times, Dumbledore is particularly famous for his defeat of the Dark Wizard Grindelwald in 1945, for the discovery of the twelve uses of dragon’s blood, and his work on alchemy with his partner, Nicolas Flamel. Professor Dumbledore enjoys chamber music and ten-pin bowling. _

 

She turned the card back around to find Dumbledore gone. “I always forget that they never stick around in photos sometimes.”

 

Ron snorted. “Do you expect them too? They’ll be back.

 

Dhatura shrugged. “In the muggle world, photos don’t move of their own free will.”

 

“ _ Weird… _ ”

 

They move on and Dhatura quickly learned what the ‘Every Flavour’ meant in Bertie Bott’s Every Flavor Beans. She still was scrapping the taste of a grass flavoured bean off her tongue.

 

The countryside was flowing past them in pastures of green as they laughed together. 

 

There was a knock at the compartment door, and a tearful boy stepped in. “Have any of you seen a toad? I keep losing him, and when I ask older students they hex me!”

 

Dhatura stood up. “Would you like help searching?” The boy could only nodded miserably. 

 

She nodded to her friends, “I’ll be back.” 

 

She followed the boy around the train, comforting him along the way, and asking people if they’d seen a toad. Heads swivelled toward her suspicious of who she was, but most moved on instead of pursuing it. 

 

They ended up in Neville’s compartment, which he said he shared with a girl named ‘Hermione’, who was helping in the search. 

 

To help distract him, she introduced herself. “I’m Dhatura Potter, by the way.” The boy didn’t even blink.

 

“Yeah, I know. Our parents were friends before…” And he trailed off. He continued on a different path. “My mum w-was your Godmother, or that’s what Gran told me.”

 

She gaped at him, silent not knowing what to say. “Wh-what’s your name then?”

 

“Neville Longbottom.” He looked plenty distracted now. 

 

She grinned, because she knew just that little bit more about her family. “Well, it’s very nice to meet you Neville! Maybe, if we get to know each other a little better, we can be brother and sister? Or god-brother and god-sister?”

 

Neville looked hopeful at that. “T-that would be lovely. Gran would be happy that I’m making friends already… She thought I was going to be a squib…” She nodded, despite not knowing what that meant, and filed it away to ask Ariana later. 

 

The two sat and talked, both obviously avoiding childhood and parentage, until a bushy haired girl with big teeth and pretty dark skin entered. 

 

Dhatura said stood, said goodbye to Neville after promising to catch up later, and introduced herself to the girl. 

 

“Hello, I’m Dhatura Potter.”

 

The girl grinned. “Are you really? I’m Hermione Granger. I’ve read about you! Pleased to make your acquaintance!”

 

This girl seemed like a lot but that wasn’t a bad thing to be, in Dhatura’s eyes.

 

“Seems everyone has, yeah. I’ll see you guys later, alright?” 

 

She skipped back to her compartment with glee at finding more lost remnants of her life, only to find something she didn’t quite like at the entrance to her compartment. 

 

“... looking for Dhatura Potter. I was told she was sitting in here.”

 

It was the boy from the robes shop, the one who was an utter tosser. 

 

She spoke up, just wanting to slide into her compartment and be with her friends. 

 

“Who is asking?” She coolly shoved past them despite her tiny frame and sat in her seat. 

 

“Oh, this is Crabbe and Goyle. And  _ I _ am Draco Malfoy,” he said, as if it was supposed to impress her. Ron snorted.

 

Draco glared. “Think my name is funny do you? Red-haired, freckled face, and more children they can afford. Must be a Weasley.”

 

At this, both Ron and Dhatura stood up, quite furious. 

 

She seethed. “I’ve quite enough of you, bugger off won’t you?”

 

Draco stiffened. “Potter, soon you will see what quality wizards look like, and it definitely isn’t the likes of them, a Weasley and a Dumbledore. I’ll forgive you when you come crawling back.” He smirked as if he would win, but Dhatura was too stubborn to even consider talking to him again. 

 

 That was the last straw. “Come here again, even look at us the rest of the night, and I will cut off your pretty upturned nose.”

 

While she knew there was no need for violence, it both made her feel better, and knew that a young misguided slimy git like him would take it seriously. 

 

Before anyone could make a move, Goyle, who had been reaching for a chocolate frog in the background, screeched in pain. On his finger hung Scabbers the Rat, bravely biting the boy. 

 

Goyle swung the rat off, and the three disappeared in an instant. 

 

The compartment door opened, and it was Hermione, watching the aftermath of the whole fiasco. 

 

“What has been happening here? No one better be fighting!”

 

Ron, irritated, said, “You again? What do you need?” Apparently Hermione had been here before looking for Neville’s toad. 

 

She sniffed. “Just come to say that you’d better put your robes on now, The driver said we’re nearly there.”

 

She exited and the girls and Ron took off to get changed. 

 

Dhatura looked out the window and had no idea what was in store for her future.

 

But she knew that what was in front of her was better than what was behind, and that was the best part. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I will try to respond to comments now! Sorry for the wait, I'm just A Piece Of Garbage Sometimes. (Also its 4 am and I'm eating cold chicken and noodles like an asshole on my couch so i have nothing better to do.)
> 
> Thank you everyone once again!


	6. Hack Job

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I went back and edited some of the chapters myself. They're prolly still shit, but I'm trying y'all.

Chapter 6

 

The train slowed to a stop, and just as Dhatura tried and failed to once again lift her trunk, an older student with blue robes informed her that it wasn’t necessary; all belongings were magically transported to their rooms. 

 

Dhatura, Ron, and Ariana stepped off of the train together, pushed around into the throng of people, eventually encountering Neville, who whimpered that he had lost Hermione in the rush. 

 

They shoved their way through the crowd of taller students, to the gigantic man yelling, “Firs’ years, firs’ years over here!” He spotted Dhatura in the crowd, and gave her a wink with his black beetle-like eyes.

 

The man was humongous, larger than any man could possibly be, with wraggly grey, dark hair spilling off into a beard. 

 

He roared again, “Any more firs’ years? No? Alrigh’ follow me! Mind yer step!”

 

The large group of first-years stumbled their way down the steep dirt slope, so dark they decided together they must be surrounded by trees. 

 

Nobody spoke much, but Neville sniffled a bit, still worried about his toad.

 

The tall man, Hagrid as he introduced himself, shouted, “Yeh’ll be gettin’ yer firs’ sight o’ Hogwarts jus’ round the bend now!”

 

There was a loud round of ‘oooh’s and ‘ahhh’s as everyone took their first glances at the castle.

 

To Dhatura it was beyond description. It was magnificent, and beautiful. The lights cast off the mountains behind it, making it twinkle brighter than the closest star.

 

They reached a lake at the end of the path, where Hagrid announced, “No more’n four t’ a boat!”

 

So Ron, Dhatura, Neville, and Ariana tiptoed into a small boat together. After everyone was in, the large man, taking up his own boat, called the boats to go forward. 

 

The sight of Hogwarts from the lake was even greater as it drew closer. The lights reflected off of the rippling water and Dhatura felt she could name a more majestic sight. 

 

They reached their destination and clambered out of the boats. 

 

“Oi! Who’s toad is this!” The scraggly man exclaimed, causing Neville to almost collapse with relief and pent up stress as he was handed Trevor. 

 

They went up the passageway and up the stone steps. Making sure he had everyone, Hagrid gave the oak doors in front of them firm three knocks.

 

The doors swung open without pause, and gave Dhatura a most welcoming sight: Professor Minerva McGonagall.

 

“Thank you Hagrid I will take them from here.”

 

The doors opened wide for the students, and what they saw was wonderful. The Entrance Hall was so big it could fit Minerva’s cottage in it. The stone walls were lit bright with torches, and McGonagall led them across the hall passed a marble staircase. They passed a door to the right, where they could hear the voices of hundreds, but Professor McGonagall led them to a small chamber. 

 

She looked over the crowd of young students, as they waited anxiously. 

 

“Welcome to Hogwarts,” her guardian finally said, “The start-of-term banquet will begin shortly, but before you take your seats in the Great Hall, you will be sorted into your houses. The Sorting is a very important ceremony because, while you are here, your house will be something like your family within Hogwarts. You will have classes with the rest of your house, sleep in your house dormitory and spend free time in your house common room.

 

“The four houses are called Gryffindor, Hufflepuff, Ravenclaw, and Slytherin. Each house has its own noble history and each has produced outstanding witches and wizards. While you are at Hogwarts, your triumphs will earn your house points, while any rule-breaking will lose house points. At the end of the year, the house with the most points is awarded the House Cup, a great honor. I hope each of you will be a credit to whichever house becomes yours.

 

“The Sorting Ceremony will take place in a few minutes in front of the rest of the school. I suggest you all smarten yourselves up as much as you can while you are waiting.”

 

McGonagall looked over Neville and Ron’s haphazard appearances, with a mussed up cloak and a dirty nose.

 

Then the professor looked over to Dhatura, and gave her a soft smile, then swishing right back out of the door. 

 

Dhatura whispered to Ariana, “How do we get sorted again? Min-McGonagall never mentioned it.”

 

Ariana shrugged, glancing over at the pale Ron. “Dunno. Uncle would never tell me, even if I begged him.”

 

Ron jumped in. “Fred told me it hurts…”

 

They all shivered, listening to Hermione chant everything she had learned thinking it was a test of sorts. 

 

Just when Neville was about to open his mouth to respond, around twenty ghosts floated through the walls of the chamber, alerting the first-years.

 

They seemed to be in the middle of a conversation. 

 

A fat little monk was saying, “Forgive and forget, I say. We ought to give him a second chance-”

 

A ghost wearing a ruff and tights cut him off. “My dear Friar, haven’t we given Peeves all the chances he deserves? He gives us all a bad name  and you know, he’s not really even a ghost - I say, what are you all doing here?”

 

None of the first-years answered. 

 

“New students!” the ghostly monk exclaimed. “About to be sorted, I suppose?”

 

He got a couple of nods. 

 

“Hope to see you in Hufflepuff! My old house you know!”

 

They heard a sharp voice appear at the door. “Move along now. The Sorting is about to start.” McGonagall had returned, and the ghosts faded back through the walls. 

 

“Now form a line and follow me.”

 

They did as they were told, as nerves ran rampant. They walked in their line across the hall, and in through a pair of double doors leading into the Great Hall.

 

The hall was a splendid place. Lit by hundreds of candles floating above them, before them were four brightly colored tables parted by the stream of upcoming students. 

 

Above the candles was a perfect moving replica of the sky above, with a pale moon and dotting stars, only blocked by the occasional wispy cloud. 

 

Hermione saw her look and whispered, “It’s bewitched to look like the sky outside. I read it in Hogwarts: A History!” Not wanting to be more rude than she was, and wanting to make a good impression on a potential friend, Dhatura refrained from rolling her eyes and saying something snarky. 

 

Instead, she nodded thankfully, equally impressed by the girl’s knowledge.

 

She finally looked down again, as she saw McGonagall place a ratty old witch’s hat on a stool upon the platform where the teachers sat. 

 

For a few seconds, there was only silence, until the hat twitches and came to life.

 

It began to sing in a jaunty voice:

 

_ Oh, you may not think I’m pretty, _

_ But don’t judge on what you see, _

_ I’ll eat myself if you can find _

_ A smarter hat than me. _

_ You can keep your bowlers black, _

_ Your top hats sleek and tall, _

_ For I’m the Hogwarts Sorting Hat _

_ And I can cap them all. _

_ There’s nothing hidden in your head _

_ The Sorting Hat can’t see, _

_ So try me on and I will tell you _

_ Where you ought to be. _

_ You might belong in Gryffindor, _

_ Where dwell the brave at heart, _

_ Their daring, nerve and chivalry _

_ Set Gryffindors apart; _

_ You might belong in Hufflepuff, _

_ Where they are just and loyal, _

_ Those patient Hufflepuffs are true _

_ And unafraid of toil; _

_ Or yet in wise old Ravenclaw, _

_ If you’ve a ready mind, _

_ Where those of wit and learning, _

_ Will always find their kind; _

_ Or perhaps in Slytherin _

_ You’ll make your real friends, _

_ Those cunning folk use any means _

_ To achieve their ends. _

_ So put me on! Don’t be afraid! _

_ And don’t get in a flap! _

_ You’re in safe hands (though I have none) _

_ For I’m a Thinking Cap! _

 

The song ended, and the hall burst with applause, and she heard the Weasley Twins whistling and shouting praise. 

 

The hat went still, and Professor McGonagall rolled out an ancient scroll. 

 

"When I call your name, you will put on the hat and sit on the stool to be sorted," she said. "Abbott, Hannah!"

 

A sweet looking girl with yellow pigtails and pink cheeks skipped up to the front, and placed the hat on her head. It fell down past her eyes as she sat down.

 

It only took a moment for Hannah to be announced, “HUFFLEPUFF!”

 

“Bones, Susan!”

 

“HUFFLEPUFF!”

 

The motion kept going on, with a “Boot, Terry!” being placed in Ravenclaw and so on and so forth. 

 

She heard a “Brown, Lavender!” get placed in Gryffindor and a “Bulstrode, Millicent!” get placed in Slytherin. 

 

She tuned out until she heard “Dumbledore, Ariana!”

 

Dhatura alerted herself. Ariana humbly walked to the hat, and within less than a minute it yelled “HUFFLEPUFF!”

 

She clapped loudly with Ron for her friend.

 

Dhatura fancied that very few Slytherins were nice looking in the sense that if possible, they would beat anyone up who crossed their crooked paths. She held up hope for at least one of them to be nice enough. 

 

She saw Hermione get placed in Gryffindor, and Ron groaned beside her. 

 

Her godbrother Neville also scuttled over to Gryffindor after being placed there. 

 

She hadn’t thought about what house she’d wanted, at one point wanting to got to Hufflepuff just to spite the blonde brat. They seemed like nice, welcoming people and she thought that she’d have a lot of fun, not to mention she would be with Ariana.

 

But Gryffindor seemed nice, and Ravenclaw was alright. She rejected the idea that she would ever fit into Slytherin. They seemed like a dark and broody type, and quite honestly, she’d already had enough of that for one lifetime. 

 

She saw the Malfoy kid get placed into Slytherin and wasn’t surprised. She imagined his bullying personality would fit right in with them. 

 

There weren't many people left now. "Moon"..., "Nott"..., "Parkinson"..., then a pair of twin girls, "Patil" and "Patil"..., then "Perks, Sally-Anne"..., and then, at last -

 

“Potter, Dhatura!”

 

She heard whispers break out across the enclave, and all eyes were on her.  _ ‘Quite a lot of pressure,’  _ the girl thought dryly. 

 

Minerva gave her an unnoticeable smile as she placed the hat over her eyes, and it did its job to calm her down a bit. 

 

She heard a small voice in her ear. “Dhatura Lily Potter, nice to finally meet you!”

 

She felt perplexed. 

 

“Oh don’t be confused, I’m just looking into your mind a bit.” Dhatura tensed. 

 

“Don’t worry, everything stays nice and confidential. Just you and me. Now, let’s see… You’re quite a go-getter, wanting to learn more, but not driven by this… You’re just curious… Conniving too, well, you have needed it out there where you were… Oh, Hufflepuff would be a good fit, but you’re too mischievous. Perhaps that would be a good thing though…”

 

The hat trailed off. “But I see a lot of bravery inside you, and the potential to do so much more with it… You would fit in well, like a glove, so better be GRYFFINDOR!”

 

The hat shouted the last word to the captive audience, and Minerva gave her a proud smile, ushering her off stage. She could hear the singing of the Weasley Twins, “We got Potter! We got Potter!”

 

She looked over to Ariana, and they gave each other thumbs up, knowing they would still be friends because they told each other over letters that they would.

 

Dhatura sat herself beside Neville and across from Hermione, who sat next to the Patil twin who was placed in Gryffindor. 

 

She waited patiently for the other students to be placed, and a “Thomas, Dean” came and sat next to her after being sorted. 

 

“Weasley, Ronald!” He placed the hat upon his ginger hair, and not a second later it yelled, “GRYFFINDOR!”

 

The lasts sorting came and went, as “Zabini, Blaise”, sat down at the end of the Slytherin table. 

 

Her stomach finally growled, as she gazed down at the golden plate in front of her mournfully. Dean beside her laughed at the pitious expression on her face.

 

Albus Dumbledore, eyes twinkly as always, stood and, with his normal gleeful expression said, “Welcome! Welcome to a new year! Before we begin our banquet, I would like to say a few words! And here they are: Nitwit! Blubber! Oddment! Tweak! Thank you!”

 

Dhatura shook her head in amusement. “What an odd man…” 

 

The other first years around her nodded in agreement. 

 

The next thing they all knew, food appeared into existence in front of them, not unlike how Hellor could do at the McGonagall Cottage. 

 

Dhatura started to pile up foods. Mashed potatoes, roast beef, chicken, even a few foreign dishes. 

 

The ghost who wore the ruff slid across the table, speaking about how he wished he could eat food, and Ron added in, introducing him as Nearly Headless Nick. 

 

“I would prefer you to call me Sir Nicholas de Mimsy -”

 

Seamus Finnegan, another boy sorted into Gryffindor that year, took a bite of chicken and asked, “How can you be ‘Nearly Headless’?”

 

The ghost looked hassled, as this seemed to happen every single year, for almost 500 years consecutively in fact. 

 

“Like this,” he said, his irritable expression tipped with his head as it swung onto his shoulder. 

 

Dhatura chuckled and whispered over to Dean, “I guess you could say it was a…  _ hack job _ …”

 

Dean, not expecting this, burst into laughter, alerting the whole table section to look at the two of them. She merely gave them all an innocent expression and went back to her meal.

 

After everyone ate as much as they could, the food faded away, and dessert popped up instead. Dhatura, still not accustomed to many sweet things, took some scoops of chocolate ice cream and was satisfied. 

 

They began to talk about families and she decided to sit this one out, just listening to the stories.

 

"I'm half-and-half," said Seamus. "Me dad's a Muggle. Mom didn't tell him she was a witch 'til after they were married. Bit of a nasty shock for him."

 

They chortled along with him as he finished his statement. 

 

“Neville, what about you?”

 

"Well, my gran brought me up and she's a witch," said Neville, "but the family thought I was a squib for ages. My Great Uncle Algie kept trying to catch me off my guard and force some magic out of me - he pushed me off the end of Blackpool pier once, I nearly drowned -- but nothing happened until I was eight. Great Uncle Algie came round for dinner, and he was hanging me out of an upstairs window by the ankles when my Great Auntie Enid offered him a meringue and he accidentally let go. But I bounced -- all the way down the garden and into the road. They were all really pleased, Gran was crying, she was so happy. And you should have seen their faces when I got in here -- they thought I might not be magic enough to come, you see. Great Uncle Algie was so pleased he bought me my toad."

 

Down the table a bit, she could hear Hermione bugging Percy about classes.

 

Dhatura, full to the brim, began to long for a bed to rest in, and looked up to the teacher’s table. Hagrid was deep in a goblet, and Dumbledore and McGonagall were talking steadily. Next to them were a young man with a maroon turban on his head and another with long greasy hair, a hooked nose, and sallow skin. 

 

It happened suddenly, as she looked between the two men, a flash of pain shot across her scar. She held her head for a second, pretending to just fix her hair until the shooting pain faded.

 

Dhatura, feeling better, looked over to Percy and asked, “Who are those two teachers next to McGonagall and Dumbledore?”

 

“Ah the one in the turban is the new Defense Against the Dark Arts professor, Quirrell, and the dark haired man is Professor Snape, the potions professor. Watch out for Snape, though, they say he knows a bit too much about the Dark Arts if you know what I mean.”

 

The desserts disappeared, and Dumbledore stood to his podium to talk to the masses of students. 

 

"Ahem -- just a few more words now that we are all fed and watered. I have a few start-of-term notices to give you.

 

"First years should note that the forest on the grounds is forbidden to all pupils. And a few of our older students would do well to remember that as well."

 

Dumbledore's twinkling eyes flashed in the direction of the Weasley twins.

 

"I have also been asked by Mr. Filch, the caretaker, to remind you all that no magic should be used between classes in the corridors.

 

"Quidditch trials will be held in the second week of the term. Anyone interested in playing for their house teams should contact Madam Hooch.

 

"And finally, I must tell you that this year, the third-floor corridor on the right-hand side is out of bounds to everyone who does not wish to die a very painful death."

 

Dhatura’s eyes widened, not knowing what to make of such a grim warning towards such young students. 

 

The Headmaster moved on. “And now, before we go to bed, let us sing the school song!” At this there seemed to be a shared grimace run through the teachers table.

 

“Everyone pick a favorite tune, and off we go!”

 

Dumbledore gave a flick of his want, and it sprouted a golden ribbon with words on it:

 

_ "Hogwarts, Hogwarts, Hoggy Warty Hogwarts, _

 

_ Teach us something please, _

 

_ Whether we be old and bald _

 

_ Or young with scabby knees, _

 

_ Our heads could do with filling _

 

_ With some interesting stuff, _

 

_ For now they're bare and full of air, _

 

_ Dead flies and bits of fluff, _

 

_ So teach us things worth knowing, _

 

_ Bring back what we've forgot, just do your best, we'll do the rest, _

 

_ And learn until our brains all rot." _

 

The school bellowed at different tempos, and ended at all different times, with the Weasley Twins being last singing along to a funeral march. 

 

Percy rounded all the first years into a line and corralled them up the beautiful marble staircase along with the other students of different years. Dhatura was too sleepy and her legs felt like they were being weighed down by all the food she ate to notice the moving portraits all  whispering around them. 

 

They came to a sudden halt when they saw a bundle of sticks began to float towards them.

 

“Peeves,” Percy informed them, nudging the older prefects in front of them. “A poltergeist.”

 

An older female prefect, Cleo Halls, raised her voice, “Do you want me to get the Bloody Baron?”

 

There was a pop, and a little man with wicked, dark eyes and a wide mouth appeared, floating cross-legged in the air, clutching the walking sticks.

 

"Oooooooh!" he said, with an evil cackle. "Ickle Firsties! What fun!"

 

He swooped suddenly at them. They all ducked.

 

"Go away, Peeves, or the Baron'll hear about this, I mean it!" barked Cleo, the 7th year prefect.

 

Peeves stuck out his tongue and vanished, dropping the walking sticks on Percy's head. They heard him zooming away, rattling coats of armor as he passed.

 

"You want to watch out for Peeves," said Percy, as he shook off the attack. "The Bloody Baron's the only one who can control him, he won't even listen to us prefects. Here we are."

 

At the very end of the corridor hung a portrait of a very fat woman in a pink silk dress.

 

"Password?" she said.

 

"Caput Draconis," Cleo said. The girl was quite the leader. 

 

The portrait swung forward to reveal a round entrance in the wall. They all stepped through the portal and into a comfy red and gold common room, with a lovely fireplace and squishy chairs everywhere.

 

Percy directed the boys to their dorm, while Cleo showed them to theirs, and told them how the stairs worked to keep boys out. 

 

At the top of the staircase of the Gryffindor Tower, there were 6 four-poster beds, one for each of the girls. All of the girls changed into their pajamas, and visited the bathroom inside their dorm room. Dhatura told herself she would officially meet her roommates tomorrow when she wasn’t so sleepy.

 

After they finished, they collapsed into their respective beds and into their respective dream worlds. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry I took a week to update again. I gave like 5 chapters in 4 days, but shit's been happening and I'm sick again. (It's my karma for gloating that I didn't get sick the last semester of my freshman year of college.)
> 
> I think I'm gonna aim for like a chapter a week? I dunno. It's not gonna be on a schedule, but I can guarantee that it will be often enough.


	7. “Avoid Filch Like The Plague, Because He Probably Has The Plague”

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> oookkkk so im very sorry. i went off and on writing this. also, college sucks, depression sucks, but you wanna know who's great? Lizzo that's all. sorry.

Chapter 7

 

Dhatura commonly woke with the rising of the sun, and the first day of classes was no different. 

 

She found she was awake before the other girls, took it as a blessing and started to get ready. She showered in hot water, brushed through her hair the best she could and got dressed. By the time she was finished, the other girls were just beginning to stir behind the curtains of their four-poster beds. . 

 

She began to sort through her things, and put the photos given to her by Dumbledore on the wall. 

 

The girls moved around her and chatter began to strike up among them. 

 

A girl named Kellah Aarons, a dark-skinned girl with a round face, asked Dhatura if she wanted to use her Lady Lock Magical Hair Brush For Textured Hair, saying that it would probably work better on her wild curls inherited by her father. 

 

Hermione, already dressed, was speed reading a textbook in her bed, with her uniform beginning to crinkle.

 

Lavender Brown and Parvarti Patil were hitting it off, showing each other their hair products and such. 

 

Fay Dunbar was a lively girl, but quiet unless talked to. Dhatura thought she could see herself getting along quite well with the fiery girl. 

 

Everyone except Hermione started to talk about upcoming classes, and uniforms, and whatever else under the sun. At one point, Dhatura consented to let Lavender and Parvarti wrangle her down in a chair and do her hair with help from Kellah. It ended up in a nicely wrapped bun at the crown of her head, with vines of hair floating down stylishly, or so Lavender explained. 

 

Hermione shut her book harshly, seemingly annoyed by the noise the girls made, and shoved it into her bag, rushing off to breakfast. Dhatura wasn’t too perturbed, she understood that all of this was so new and it would take some time getting used to being around so many people just as weird as she was. 

 

After everyone else was finished getting ready, the five of them walked down to the Great Hall together, following the older students like lambs in order to find their way.

 

They found the other first-years at Gryffindor and sat down with them, eager to make friends. 

 

People around them whispered. 

 

"There, look."

 

"Where?"

 

"Right there you numpty."

 

"Wearing the glasses?"

 

"Did you see her face?"

 

"Did you see her scar?"

 

Dhatura supposed she had to get used to it. She was reluctantly famous here, and did not know how to handle it. 

 

After breakfast, the girls grouped together again, and followed the directions given to them by Cleo. 

 

This occurred day in and day out. Everyday the girls, who were becoming quite close as friends, would go to breakfast with the Gryffindor boys then wander to classes together. 

 

Well, all of the girls except for Hermione, who huffed to breakfast alone, then sped to class in order to get a seat at the front. 

 

Cleo told them how to not get lost, as there were a hundred and forty-two different staircases of different natures. She said,  _ ‘when in doubt ask a portrait or a suit of armor.’  _ She also said not to listen to anything Peeves said, because he would try to lead students off of the Astronomy Tower. 

 

Fred and George often gave the younger kids they liked advice like, “Avoid Filch Like The Plague, Because He Probably Has The Plague,” or “Always Listen To Magical Medallions,” but that one was probably just the twins taking the piss. 

 

Classes went fairly well. In fact, Dhatura excelled. She wasn’t on Hermione’s level, who was quite the bookworm, but she did fairly well in almost every class.

 

Astronomy was interesting, studying the stars at midnight every Wednesday. It was a lot more memorization that she expected, but that was perfect for her. Plotting the stars was literally magical. 

 

Charms with Hufflepuffs and Ravenclaws was brilliant, but not very hard. All you needed to know was the incantation and wand movement. Dhatura would have liked to sit with Ariana, but instead she got sat with a Ravenclaw lad with a bigger head than Malfoy. 

 

Transfigurations with a mix of all four houses was difficult at first, but after some guidance from Professor McGonagall, she was one of the best in her class. She even made significant progress on turning her match into a needle, right alongside Hermione. Sadly Ariana was in the other Transfigurations class. (Dhatura learned Transfigurations, like most magic, was all about intention and being able to picture what you wanted in your mind.)

 

Herbology with the Hufflepuffs was fascinating; it was gardening but with more magic and a touch of danger. Ariana was also in her class, and they got to choose each other as partners. 

 

History of Magic with Ravenclaws would have been more interesting, learning about the culture of the world she hadn’t known until the month before, but Professor Binns, a ghost, had the personality of a rock and the voice of a vacuum cleaner. 

 

They had all been looking forward to Defense Against the Dark Arts with a mix of the other houses, because it sounded dangerous and fun, but it was as boring as History of Magic. Quirrell was a joke of a man, always stuttering and evading questions about his adventures. He always smelled of garlic, and, for some reason, she always had a headache when he was around. 

 

It was the first Friday when they had their first potions lesson, in fact it was a double lesson with Slytherins. 

 

The girls once again joined the boys at the table, and they shared information about what the day was going to be like. 

 

“Snape’s the potions professor. They say he always favors Slytherins because he’s their head of house,” Ron conspired. 

 

Dean humphed. “Wish McGonagall favored us…”

 

Just then the mail arrived, and a brown tawny owl dropped a letter off for Dhatura. It vexed her a bit, because she knew it wasn’t Minerva’s owl, nor was it Lady Marshmallow, Ariana’s psychotic beast. 

 

It dropped a note, stole a piece of her bacon out of her fingers and flew to sit on top of her head. 

 

“Bloody bird,” she muttered. Needless to say, her luck with birds would never get any better. It nipped at her head for her rudeness. 

 

Dhatura saw Ariana smirking over at her from the Hufflepuff table and sighed to herself.

 

On the note dropped it read in the fanciful script of her guardian:

 

_ Miss Potter, _

 

_ If you would like to come by next Friday, I know you have those afternoons off. Tea around 3? _

 

_ Professor McGonagall _

 

_ P.S. This is a Hogwarts owl. Esme is currently on business to the Ministry.  _

 

Dhatura snatched a quill from her bag and scribbled her assent, saying she was looking forward to it, and shoved it to the bird on top of her head. It flew off, accidentally tugging on her hair as the talons had tangled into it. It tugged so hard, it dragged her off of the bench she had been sitting on. 

 

Dhatura clattered to the ground like a stack of cards beautifully built then blown over.

 

She hit the ground hard. She didn’t get up right away.

 

Instead, she was pushed into old memories. 

 

_ ‘They were standing in the hallway. Vernon had accosted her as she exited the upstairs bathroom after cleaning it spic and span. _

 

_ “Girl, what have you done this time! It says here you threw mud at a boy during break!” _

 

_ In reality, the mud flew on its own, but she knew Vernon would hate her even more for that.  _

 

_ Then, Dudley came thundering up the stairs. “Daddy! Freak threw mud at Pier Polkis! She didn’t even touch it but I know it was her! Daddy  _ do  _ something!” _

 

_ Vernon was starting to turn purple. He was quite incensed this time.  _

 

_ He grabbed her by her hair and dragged her to the top of the wooden stairs and-’ _

 

She was shaken out of the memory by a worried Ariana and Ron.

 

Dhatura blinked and McGonagall was upon them, towering high above the students knelt next to her, but ever worried about her, despite trying to hide it. 

 

Her friends helped her up and guided her to a bench as she shivered against them. The memories were too present.

 

“Everyone clear off. It’s time for class. Ms. Potter, you may stay back,” Ron and Ariana persisted. “Ms. Dumbledore, Mr. Weasley, yes that means you. Run along.”

 

Everyone who had crowded her before dispersed at the sight of Minerva’s glare. Ariana and Ron glanced at her, and she nodded, letting them know it was ok. 

 

Dhatura’s ears rang. Her throat was sore like she had just screamed her head off. 

 

What a way to end her first week of classes at a new school where she’s accidentally famous for killing someone as a baby. 

 

The shivering lessened after a few minutes, and after the food had popped off again, Minerva conjured a glass and water for her. 

 

The silence was finally broken, as only she and her guardian remained in the Great Hall. “Ms. P- Dhatura, are you alright?”

 

“Y-yes. This isn’t the first time, really, but the first time so many people have- er, witnessed this…” She trailed off.

 

This had happened before, several times, and with different memories. Dhatura would be entranced, trapped into old memories of haunting events, and wake up just a few seconds later, knowing in her that she had screamed once again. 

 

All at once, her tears began to drown her, her breathing drew short and before she knew it, she began to quake once more. 

 

Minerva nodded to herself. “It may not put you in his good books to skip your first Potions class, but it seems we need to visit the Hospital Wing.”

 

Dhatura, numb to reality, was guided around the castle by Minerva’s hand on her back. 

 

As soon as they entered the Hospital Wing, Madam Pomfrey ushered her in a whirlwind to a bed. The next thing she knew, she was being handed several potions, one after another. 

 

Madam Pomfrey explained the potions, but she was simply too exhausted to comprehend anything the healer said. 

 

She closed her eyes, wishing for the pounding in her head to go away.

 

***

 

She awoke to harsh whispers.

 

“... was screaming bloody murder. Has she ever told you much about her home life with the muggles?”

 

That was Ron’s voice.

 

“Er- No, I don’t know much. And it’s not our business. Until she tells us, we are simply going to be here for her, _ right Ronald? _ ”

 

“Er- yeah sure. What’s the muggle phrase? Be there or be square?”

 

Dhatura giggled sleepily.

 

The two immediately stopped their whispering and stood over her. “Dhatura!”

 

“What time is it? I slept through class didn’t I?”

 

Her two friends exchanged a look. Ron spoke up.“Uh, Dhatura? You slept for a whole day. It’s Saturday morning. Pomfrey told us you were over-exhausted and stressed.”

 

She blinked. “Oh.”

 

Pomfrey was alerted to her awakened patient. “Ms. Potter! Ok, I’m just going to check you over and then you may take your daily potions and leave.”

 

Dhatura relaxed against the bed. “Alright Madam Pomfrey.”

 

They went through the motions and she left with her friends. She was told she had missed breakfast, so she decided to just go up to her dorm real quick and grab her stash of candy alongside her school bag. 

 

They spent the weekend relaxing, joking, and finishing up work, Ron more reluctant than the other too. At one point he tried to play Exploding Snap by himself and scorched several of his fingernails. 

 

At one point, Dhatura bribed Fred and George to buy her some stuff from the prank store and candy store on their trip to Hogsmeade that weekend. 

 

Sunday was spent relaxing after their first week of classes. They lounged in the courtyard, wanting the sun but not wanting to walk all the way to the lake. It was probably going to be the last nice weekend before the rainy season of Scotland was upon them, and then indomitable winter. 

 

They laid out a blanket, and invited their friends to do the same. At one point, even Hermione, ever the recluse, hopped over and talked about how much she had missed in potions. Dhatura simply nodded along, as she was genuinely interested, but she had already read up on potions over the summer. 

 

The sun had begun to set, and they were due for dinner quite soon. It was only the three of them left; Dhatura, Ariana, and Ron watched the sun sink into the Scottish landscape. 

 

And honestly? Life had never felt so good.

 

***

Life continued in the same vague pattern. Enough to follow a weekly routine but allowing the groups of friends to get to know each other and explore the world within the castle. 

 

A week after her trip to the hospital wing, Dhatura finally attended her first double potions lesson.

 

They sat down at desks with massive cauldrons, she and Hermione left Ron with Neville in order to help Dhatura catch up with what she missed.

 

The potions lab was dark, with heavy drapery over what windows existed. Never had Dhatura seen a place that resembled the disgusting London homeless shelters so well, especially the cobwebs that no one decided to deal with and the grimy walls. 

 

Professor Snape swept in like a literal bat out of hell.  _ Way to be dramatic, Professor,  _ she thought to herself. 

 

Immediately, the dark professor took role, until he stopped upon her name in particular. 

 

“Ah, yes,” he crooned, as if crafting an insult, “Ms. Potter… Our newest…  _ Celebrity _ …” 

 

He said this slowly, as if to be dramatic, but Dhatura thought he sounded obtuse, or perhaps had a stutter like Professor Quirrel, the Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher.

 

The Slytherins all whispered together, sniggering amongst each other. 

 

He continued calling names, until all were present and accounted for. 

 

“Seeing as _ Potter _ missed the first class I shall repeat myself only once more; you are here to learn the subtle science and exact art of potion-making…”

 

_ Wow, lovely man he is,  _ Dhatura remarked to herself. 

 

“... As there is little foolish wand-waving here, many of you will hardly understand the beauty of the soft simmering cauldron with its shimmering fumes, the delicate power of liquids that creep through human veins, bewitching the mind, ensnaring the senses… I can teach you how to bottle fame, brew glory, even stop death - if you aren’t as big a bunch of dunderheads as I usually have to teach.”

 

Dhatura saw the smirk on his face, directed right at her. She knew this was some sort of challenge to be better than the rest but she had no idea why. 

 

She looked over to her fellow year mates while the silence loomed over the classroom. They all shrugged a long with her. And at that moment, she swore she was going to be the best at potions, just to prove Snape wrong, she wasn’t a dunderhead, and to prove to Malfoy that she was the best witch of them all. 

 

“Potter!” Snape barked. “What would I get if I added powdered root of asphodel to an infusion of wormwood?”

 

You see, Dhatura had certainly paged through her texts while lounging around Minerva’s cottage but this definitely seemed out of her reach as a first year. “I don’t know sir.”

 

He quizzed her several more times on things obviously above the curriculum, all the while Hermione was stretching her arm so high Dhatura thought that she was performing some weird yoga in the middle of class. 

 

All the same, she felt herself rising to the challenge, between having the sudden need to beat Hermione and to show Snape that she was better than he wanted her to be, because it seemed like he wanted her to fail.

 

And she was gonna fucking win. 

  
  
  



	8. Sides taken, bets offered

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hi guys!!! this time its only been about a month.
> 
> also before reading this chapter, go back an reread the last one, i put the tail end of it onto this chapter bc i forgot that i wanted to include the flying lesson

Chapter 8

 

The days came and went. Dhatura met the groundskeeper, Hagrid, who had led them across the lake on their first night at Hogwarts. She had tea with him often, occasionally dragging along one of her classmates. Dean especially liked to visit with her, as he loved Fang, Hagrid’s massive dog. Dean liked to say that Fang was probably twice her size. She always scowled and attempted to take a crack at her rock cake that Hagrid made. 

 

One particular visit, the topic of the recent break in to the Gringotts Bank was brought up, but Hagrid quickly shut the conversation down. Ironically, Minerva did the same thing when the topic appeared again. Dhatura knew there was something going on, but knew that she would get nothing from any teacher. 

 

As time passed, the first year student body seemed to anticipate the coming of flying lessons with the Slytherins. The thought made Dhatura nervous, she’d never even TOUCHED a broom much less ride one. She’d seen one on display in Diagon Alley but had no idea what to make of it. So she listened as Ariana soothed her and Hermione ranted facts at her about brooms, quidditch and anything else she could get her hands on. Everyone else seemed excited, or impartial, except Fay Dunbar, who seemed quite shaky whenever the subject was brought up. Ron seemed to vibrate with excitement. 

 

The day came for flying lessons, a beautiful Thursday after at 3.30. Breakfast that day was spent listening to those in their little Gryffindor group who had grown up with such things. Despite having grown up a wizard, Neville seemed overly anxious that morning, which made sense to the rest of the group, as much as they enjoyed his boyish charm, he was notoriously clumsy. 

 

The mail came as it normally did, and a pretty barn owl brought Neville a small package from his grandmother. He opened it excitedly as they looked on, curious about the package. Neville showed off a glass ball the size of a large marble, which seemed to be full of white smoke.

 

“It’s a Remembrall!” he explained. “Gran knows I forget things - this tells you if there's something you’ve forgotten to do. Look, you hold it like this and if it turns red - oh…” Right when he said it, the ball turned a mystifying scarlet, “... you’ve forgotten something…” 

 

Looking him up and down, Dhatura noticed that he'd forgotten to put on his tie that morning. She opened her mouth to comment, only for Draco, who was passing by, to snatch the trinket out of the boy’s hands. 

 

Everyone seemed to jump to his defense, Fay looking especially fiery. Before any moves could be made, Professor McGonagall sniffed out the trouble. 

 

“What’s going on?”

 

“Malfoy’s got my Remembrall, Professor,” Neville trembled slightly afraid of confrontation. 

 

Draco put it back on the table with a scowl. “Just looking.” He sauntered away, Crabbe and Goyle slumping their way behind him like 11 year old henchmen. 

 

***

 

Three thirty came with the bang of the door of the Great Hall slamming open as the group of students left their last class and rushed to the grounds for their first flying lesson. Dhatura walked with Kellah Aarons who explained quidditch to her more in depth and without overwhelming her with information like Hermione typically did. 

 

As they came onto the flat lawn, they found the Slytherin students to already be there, along with around 20 broomsticks laid out on the ground in 2 lines. Dhatura knew to pick her broom carefully, as Fred and George, as well as many of the other quidditch players around, complained about the quality of the school brooms. Some apparently vibrated if you went too high, or veered slightly to the left. 

 

Their teacher, Madam Hooch, swept up quickly, with short grey hair and yellow eyes that seemed to watch their every move like a hawk. 

 

“Well, what are you waiting for? Everyone stand by a broomstick. Come on hurry up!” Draco Malfoy sniggered, already at a stick, thinking that being barked at by a teacher is funny as if he wasn’t scolded this morning by Professor McGonagall.

 

With everyone lined up at a broom, Hooch began. “Stick out your dominant hand over your broom and say ‘UP!’”

 

Everyone shouted at various times ‘UP!’

 

Dhatura’s broom shot right into her hand leaving her staggering backwards a bit. She was one of few. Hermione’s rolled a bit, Fay’s wobbled to her, and Neville’s hadn’t moved an inch. Dean’s seemed to come to him the second time at least. 

 

Madam Hooch then showed them how to properly mount a broom without sliding off or hurting oneself.  Dhatura grinned at an unamused Hermione and a giggling Ron when Hooch sniped at Draco for doing it wrong and arguing with her about it. 

 

“Now, when I blow my whistle, you kick off from the ground, hard. Keep your brooms steady, rise a few feet, then come straight down by leaning forward slightly. On my whistle - three - two -”

 

She never got to one, as nervous Neville, at the thought of having to fly, pushed off of the ground before the whistle was blown and began to float. 

 

“Come back boy!” Dhatura raised a concerned eyebrow for her god-brother. He got to twenty feet, white as a sheet. Then he gasped, and slid off of the broom with a WHAM and a CRACK. 

 

Neville lay face down on the grass, shivering. The broomstick continued to fly higher and out of sight into the Forbidden Forest. 

 

Hooch helped up Neville, and muttered to herself about a broken wrist. She turned to the rest of the class. “None of you is to move while I take this boy to the hospital wing! You leave those brooms where they are or you’ll be out of Hogwarts before you can say ‘Quidditch.’” And she ushered a tear-stained Neville off and into the castle again. 

 

The second they were through the doors, Malfoy began to snigger. “Did you see his face, the great lump?” The other Slytherins tittered about. 

 

“Shut up Malfoy!” Parvarti snapped. 

 

“Never knew you were into fat cry babies, Patil,” Pansy Parkinson sneered.

 

“Look! It’s that stupid thing Longbottom’s gran sent him.” The Remembrall glittered in his hand as he picked it up. 

 

Dhatura truly wondered if the boys here were crazy or if she were too normal. 

 

She took a step towards the arrogant boy. “Give it here, Malfoy. Quickly and I’ll think about not decking you.” She’d met bigger arses in the alleys of London. Nothing he could do could scare her. 

 

“HA. Nice try _ Potter _ , come and get it!” He mounted his school broom and began to hover. 

 

“Give it here or I’ll knock you off of that broom!” 

 

Malfoy sneered. “Oh yeah?”

 

Somehow, Dhatura just  _ knew  _ what to do, no hesitation needed. She shot at Draco like an arrow, while Hermione squeaked nervously from the ground to stop what she was doing. Malfoy moved out of the way quickly, and a few people below clapped at her flying. 

 

“None of your lackeys up here to save you,  _ Draco. _ ” He paled a bit, coming to the same realization. 

 

“Then catch this!” And she dove. 

 

She felt like she was moving in slow motion. Dhatura kept her eye on the ball, flying after the small trinket for Neville, and caught it just in time to pull up before crashing. To her it felt like skill, not a miracle. It was exhilarating. 

 

The energy left her as she toppled to the ground, not quite knowing how to stop and dismount a broom just yet. 

 

Then she heard one of the scariest noises she’s come to known since moving in with Minerva; “ _ DHATURA LILY POTTER.” _

 

She stilled. She was in deep shit.

 

***

 

This wasn’t the first time Minerva was mad at her. Like the time Minerva walked in on her trying to float herself to the ceiling after flipping through her charms book and wanted to fly. Or the time she _ harmlessly _ switched the sugar and the salt for the day with the help of Hellor, who grew a liking for the young girl. 

 

So naturally, she knew that hearing that yell meant trouble for her. 

 

“Ms. Potter, in all my time… could have broken your bloody neck… what would Lily think dear lord... “ Dhatura knew she was furious. 

 

“It wasn’t her fault, prof-”

 

“Quiet Ms. Patil.”

 

“But, Malfoy sta-”

 

“ENOUGH, Mr. Weasley. Ms. Potter follow me” Nice of Ron to speak on her behalf but she was already doomed. 

 

The Slytherins looked too happy with the outcome. Draco had been on a broom too, why wasn’t he getting the third degree too. 

 

They were deadly silent as Minerva marched her to the castle. She was going to be expelled. Or have her magic taken away. She would have to live on the streets again. Dammit. 

 

She didn’t look up while Minerva led her through the castle like a lamb to the slaughter. They stopped outside of a classroom and the professor stuck her head inside. “Excuse me, Professor Flitwick, could I please borrow Wood for just a moment?” 

 

Was Wood some sorta cane to punish idiot students?

 

Instead, out came a burly, heavily eyebrowed boy with dark hair. He looked down at her with confusion. 

 

“Follow me, both of you.”

 

They shuffled into a classroom where Peeves was scribbling rude words onto the blackboard. “Out, Peeves!” Minerva barked. 

 

The poltergeist nailed Wood in the forehead with the chalk and cackled, going through the wall spouting some rather _ imaginative _ curses. 

 

“Dhatura, this is Oliver Wood. Wood, I found you a new seeker!” Professor McGonagall proclaimed. 

 

The puzzlement on Wood’s face smoothed out into one of joy and delight. “A-are you for real, Professor?”

 

The woman let out the teensiest smile, “As real as I can be, Mr Wood. She’s a natural. Should have known, despite it being her first time on a broom.”

 

“Well, I tried my best, I suppose.”

 

“Now, Ms. Potter don’t be shy now of all times. You caught that,” she referenced to the Remembrall clenched tightly in her fist, “in a fifty foot drop. There’s no time to play coy or downplay anything. Charlie Weasley couldn’t have even done it.” She says the last part to Wood. 

 

“Ever seen a game of Quidditch, Potter?” he asked excitedly.

 

“Wood’s captain of the Gryffindor team,” Professor McGonagall explained.

 

“She’s just the build for a Seeker, too,” said Wood, now walking around Dhatura and staring at her 4’1 frame. “Light – speedy – we’ll have to get her a decent broom, Professor – a Nimbus Two Thousand or a Cleansweep Seven, I’d say.”

 

“I shall speak to Professor Dumbledore and see if we can’t bend the first-year rule. Heaven knows, we need a better team than last year. Flattened in that last match by Slytherin, I couldn’t look Severus Snape in the face for weeks …”

 

She nodded to herself. “Wood, back to class, Dhatura, with me.” 

 

***

 

They sat for tea, and Dhatura wasn’t sure if Minerva was still angry with her. 

 

“Dhatura, your father would have been so proud” She snapped her head up to look at Minerva. 

 

“W-w-” Dhatura could only stutter. 

 

“He played quidditch. He was a chaser though. But he would have been so happy to have seen you on that broom, Dhatura…” Minerva looked like she was caught in the past. 

 

“Min- Professor McGonagall… Could you please tell me about them… My parents?” With that plea, the two were caught up in story after story as Minerva regaled the young girl with the brightest, fondest images of the people she should have known. 

 

***

 

“Are you sure you wanna do this, Dhatura?” Hermione questioned her. The three of them, including Ariana, sat at the end of the Hufflepuff table eating dinner with Ariana at her table, instead of the usual Ariana shuffling over to Gryffindor. 

 

From the Slytherin table, she could see Draco Malfoy glaring daggers at her, but seemed too afraid to confront the headstrong girl again today. 

 

Dhatura rolled her eyes. “Yes. I’m sure. This just feels right. I’m actually pretty excited. And, y’know, whatever keeps me outta any actual trouble, right?”

 

Ariana nodded. “Not to mention- Hogwarts youngest house player in over a hundred years. If she’s as good as she was today, that’s pretty significant.”

 

Hermione shook her head, and her normal massive puff of hair moved with her in a comical fashion, but neither girl commented, simply used to the gravity defying hair. As if Dhatura’s hair wasn’t as hard to deal with. 

 

“I start my training next week, but Wood is keeping it a secret. Apparently, I’m gonna be a secret weapon.”

 

With that said, the Weasley twins spot Dhatura at the end of the Hufflepuff table and swerve to talk to her. 

 

For once, they lowered their voices, knowing that the information they had was not meant to be boasted. “We heard! Our little Potter is the seeker!” 

 

“We’re gonna win the Quidditch Cup for sure this year!”

 

“We haven’t won since Charlie, our older brother, left Hogwarts but-”

 

“-this year the queen has come to save us from despair!”

 

Ariana and Dhatura looked at one another and giggled at the normal royalty jokes that typically sprouted from the twin jokers. 

 

“Anyway, we’ve got to go, your Highness. Lee thinks that we’re making a breakthrough in a prank we have going on. Let-”

 

“-us know if you’d like to join in! Could-”

 

“-be fun! Smell ya later!” Fred exclaimed. 

 

“Fred, we’ve talked ab-” And the rest of their conversation faded as they trotted away. 

 

Dhatura pulled a thinking face. “Might take them up on that… Sounds like it could be a fun time…”

 

“Honestly, Dhatura, you’re too smart to do those kinds of things,” Hermione tutted.

 

“Nah, ‘Mione, it’s about using your smarts to your advantage, especially when having fun. And what’s a few harmless pranks here and there? Not like I’m gonna start a pranking dynasty and take the school by storm.”

 

Dinner ended quietly, and they parted ways with Ariana, heading up to the Gryffindor tower. The first years wrangled their way to take the spot by the fire. They hung around, absentmindedly doing work, playing Exploding Snaps and in general just relaxing after such a high tension day. 

 

The rest of the night passed by slowly and with Dhatura’s new found motivation to study kicking in, Ron seemed to lag behind her. 

  
  


In the coming weeks, she tended to spend most of her time in study groups dedicated to one subject or another, always accompanied by Ariana and Hermione, who was a lot more pleasant than she started out being. The only problem was that Hermione was determined to show off, while Dhatura was perfectly fine knowing her own worth as a student.

 

Ron was definitely not interested in studying, much less school. He was there for the adventure, which Dhatura respected, and while she was definitely there for that too, she also wanted to go above and beyond any teacher's expectations. 

 

Time went on and Halloween approached when disaster struck and sides were taken. 

 

The 3rd week of October rolled around, and all anyone was talking about was Halloween or midterm exams. Determined to place better than the rest, she found herself barely sticking her head outside of her books. 

 

Sitting in the common room with her face stuffed into an ancient potions book labeled “Potions Ingredience and How They Art Made” by Millingtub Millfin. She was shaken out of a quite interesting passage about bezoars and their effects on different poisons when she felt the couch she was on shift weight.

 

“Dhatura… Mate… Ar-are we still friends? You spend all your time with other people, I know you’re famous and all but… We are friends aren’t we? Because Fred and George keep telling me that…”

 

She stopped him there. “Why in the three goddess’s names would you listen to your devilish brothers?”

 

He looked upset by that. “Well at least they talk to me, unlike you. All you do is shove your face in books and giggle with Hermione and Ariana all the time. Some days you don’t even acknowledge me…”

 

Dhatura snorted at that. “Well at least I’m not studying. I came to learn, not constantly slack around with you or your brothers.” She winced at her own harshness towards Ron.

 

Ron’s face turned red. “Well at least I  _ have _ brother’s to slack around with.

 

Every Gryffindor in the common room froze at that, not knowing how she would react. While a short silence moved throughout every once of the space like magic, Ron’s red anger faded into pale guilt and nervousness.

 

She handled it like she handled everything, with an extraordinary amount of grace. “WHAT THE HELL DID YOU JUST SAY TO ME?” 

 

Dhatura never pulled punches, not while living in the streets, not while living with Minerva, and definitely not when people brought up her parents' deaths, especially when the anniversary of their deaths was a week away. In fact until then that subject had been quite ardently avoided. 

 

Hermione popped up from the chair 5 feet away and began to drag a rowdy Dhatura up the stairs towards the dormitory. The rest of the girls in the first year dorm followed, giving Ron the stink eye meanwhile, in order to make sure she was okay. The rest of the common room broke out in whispers, all peering at him.

 

Sides were taken, bets offered (mainly by Fred and George, of course), and in the mix, Ron turned up mostly alone, with only Seamus on his side, amongst a few upper year boys who told Ron that women were not to be understood. He didn’t quite agree nor understand but knew better than to drive them away. 

 

He knew what he said. He regretted it as soon as he said it. He didn’t know what to do.

 

And then Halloween came. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i hope yall are enjoying this!!! ik im not the BEST writer but ya know, i like what im doing and i like the changes im making. someday when i have more experience, ill rewrite it all but like... im 20 and boo fucking whoo.

**Author's Note:**

> pls be kind, and review nicely. this is my first fic, or long piece of work that I've ever publicly shown. (i normally write and even perform poetry.)


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